Another chance for Ben and Joan ?
by bengirl
Summary: When Ben succombs to heat exhaustion, who should appear but Joan Wingate, the young woman he rescued from the Paiutes. Only now she's Mrs. Henry Dexter, but does she still have feelings for Ben? And does he have feelings for her?


Everything started when Ben returned from his ride and had brought back some cattle. He was exhausted and had a backache. He was dusty and hungry and red faced. He came in the house and sat down at the table complaining about headaches. He asked for a glass of water and explained to his boys that maybe he had gotten overheated and had heat stroke. He told them he was tired and the boys worried. They had never seen this weakness in their father. He had never been one to complain, so he really must have been feeling bad. Unfortunately the next few hours had proved them right. Soon after he'd spoken those words, Ben, as in a bad dream, fell on the table. Ben Cartwright, so handsome, so strong, lost consciousness.

Adam rushed to his father while Joe and Hoss seemed to be in a state of shock by what they'd seen. The imperious voice of their elder brother took them out of their stupor and Joe quickly left the house on Cochise to get the doctor. Never has he ridden so fast…

Paul Martin followed Joe up the stairs to Ben's bedroom. He knew how frightened Joe was when he'd come into his office breathless and trying to explain about his Pa. Paul left his office immediately without asking any more…

Paul stopped in front of the bedroom door and entered slowly. He made his way to the bed and there was Ben, laying lifeless. Fortunately his hands weren't crossed on his chest, but it was impossible to believe that he was still alive. His breath was very shallow. Ben Cartwright, he thought, it couldn't be possible. Ben was a man of motion, always moving. He flew of the handle quickly and always had a quick reaction to a silly remark made by his youngest son or and injustice Adam had been made aware of. He had a 'look' for whomever dared to stand up to him. Suddenly something was beating at Ben, a mysterious illness that set the doc to his knees.

"Well doc, how is he?"

"It's too early to say. I need to examine him. Did he complain about a wound or pain anywhere?"

"He hasn't had time to," replied Joe, a bit sarcastic."

"Joe, he didn't get it from you, you're not responsible."

Adam shot Joe a dark look, hoping he would hush up.

It was inconceivable to Joe to see his father lying unconscious in his bed. Joe needed his father, his mentor, his fulcrum, his everything, even if he did not always listen. Joe's love went beyond anything else for his father. Their love was fragile and sensitive. His father could not leave him. He couldn't begin to deal with that.

The doctor examined Ben. With caution, he started with Ben's head and felt every part of his skull in search of a possible bump or contusion which would be causing the problem. Then he listened to his heart and Ben did not react at all to his manipulations.

Hop Sing remained in the kitchen, confused by the state of health of Mr. Cartwright. He was very anxious and wanted to see the boss of the ponderosa sitting at the table with his family again. But Ben was not in a fit state to get out of bed yet. Seventy-two hours after the last doctor's visit, the coma persisted. Had the doctor recommended extreme action? It had been words most difficult to pronounce in all of his life. Of course he had already assisted so many patients that had expired. But for a friend, and God as his witness, he considered Ben to be his best friend. Medical science had it borders and Hop Sing did not know how to save his old friend. It tore him apart inside and he felt a rage like he'd never felt before. He couldn't imagine that in an instant his friend, Ben Cartwright could die. He imagined himself being the one that would have to pronounce Ben Cartwright dead. But what could he do? He had tried his own Chinese cures on the sick man yet nothing had changed. Ponderosa had no more soul, and the boys were totally confused. Adam tried hard to be supportive with his brothers but he felt the despair taking over his youngest brother Joe. All hope seemed to be gone. He had taking Joe in his arms every time he had found him collapsed on his bed, desolate.

"Adam, I can't stand seeing Pa like this," Joe cried. "What can we do to help him?"

"At the moment, nothing. I am as angry as you are Joe. We are all struggling with this. It is so unfair. No one knows what is wrong."

"Adam, just tell me he's going to wake up. Tell me this is some sort of nightmare that will end. I would gladly make a rude remark so he could wash my mouth out with soap. At least he would be alive."

Adam sprang up from the bed and shook his brother.

"I forbid you to say this. Pa is alive and you can't continue with these thoughts. I swear to you I will… You don't have the right to speak like that. These are words of a kid, not a man."

"If I want to talk like this I will Adam. I miss Pa. I don't have your strength of character or your self control or your temperament."

"Ok Ok. It not the time for this kind of talk. I don't feel as solid as you seem to think I am. You believe that I am fine and I face this with courage. I have the same thoughts you do Joe, I fear that our father will not get up again…"

Joe was stunned by Adam's words and his world collapsed a little more. Was it possible that Adam felt the same way he did? Had the same concerns? Joe needed support and if Adam felt so powerless, who would reassure him? If Adam also started to doubt, it meant undoubtedly that their father wouldn't have that chance to recover. Joe could not envision the days ahead.

Hop Sing had left the ranch early that night without anyone knowing. He wanted to do something to save his boss. He went into the city to talk to his father. He knew the art of Chinese medicine and he hoped to come back to the Ponderosa with a miracle cure to save Ben Cartwright from the night demons.

He left his father just before midnight and headed back home. He had what he needed. Medicine for mistel caltwright. After arriving in front of the ranch house and putting the horses up for the night, he noticed light coming from the first floor. Of course, none of the three boys were sleeping. He watched at the front door opened and they all ran outside. Adam was the first to speak.

"Ah, there you are. You didn't tell us you were going out."

"Hop sing say nothing. Think boys in room of father. Hop Sing not gone long time. Go to see own father."

"Hey Hop Sing. You are free to come and go, we were just worried about you," said Hoss.

"Thank you Mr. Hoss Hop Sing happy now. Have medicine for Mr. Caltwright.

"Dadburnit. Why didn't you say that earlier?"

Hearing Joe's voice, Adam turned to his brother and shot him a look.

"Joe, what is your problem? Apologize to Hop Sing immediately."

Adam started for Joe when Joe sheepishly apologized to his friend.

"Joe, if Pa had heard you talk like that you would have gotten a tanning for sure." Hoss hadn't missed commenting on Little Joe's attitude and was unable to hold his tongue.

Good thing he didn't hear all I said, Joe thought as he turned and headed for the heavy wooden door of the ranch. He was confused and teary eyed.

"Come on in Hop Sing and tell us what you have to say about the cure."

"Ok Mr. Caltwright. First hop Sing explain everything to prepare.

"What? I must confess, I don't have the head or the heart to eat."

"Mr. Hoss not want eat? Everybody become mad in this home. Mistel Caltwight need get better. Hop Sing don't understand anything."

Adam had expressed what he felt deeply in his heart. These were the time he hated being the eldest brother. Responsible Adam, serious and conscientious, so in control of himself. He would have liked to be comforted himself. Hugged by someone. Hop Sing who spent his days and nights in the kitchen, moved towards Adam. Small as he was, not being able to reach the larger man's shoulder, laid his hand on Adam's heart. Adam received him and was very affected.

"Thank you Hop Sing."

Adam was not comfortable with emotional gestures. By not having his own mother, then accepting too little from Inger. He had learned a lot by watching his father giving hugs so freely. His father was exceptional he admitted. Even at times when Ben irritated him, he felt the security in the shadow of such a majestic tree and the protectiveness of such dense foliage. Yes Ben Cartwright was stronger than a tree.

Hop Sing and the three boys were sitting in the huge room that served as living room, as dining room and as office. A big space, occupied partly by imposing chairs and a low table, which must have seen scuff marks a good hundred times from the underside of the boots of the youngest Cartwright. Hop Sing had a handbag in front of him that contained a cloth and a block of paper though a bit yellowed.

"Hop Sing father explain all to Hop Sing. Mistel Caltwrite need powerful cure. It necessary to go search for everything and prepare to make him better."

"What is needed?"

"Plants and oil or grease. Mistel Caltwight must accept drink with plants, massage with grassiest plants and lay them on him.

"Sorry Hop Sing, but you want to do what to our father?"

Joe was once again moody and couldn't help but yell at Hop Sing. He felt the need to express his anxiety, but he didn't realize how unbearable he had become. Just four days ago Ben Cartwright was feeling faint and up to now, had still not regained consciousness.

Hop Sing realized that the youngest Cartwright wasn't doing well and it encouraged him even more to act quickly to save Mr. Ben. But it was necessary to explain to Joe it could go either way.

"Little Joe should not stay here. Hop Sing need assistant. You have been told what I need. You go quickly on horse and get for Hop Sing."

"Ok, give me your list. I will go and find your leaves and roots. It may not help my Pa but you have to swear to me it won't harm him."

"Hop Sing treat Mistel Caltwight not poison him." He handed Joe the crumpled scrap of paper which represented signs and words. Little Joe began reading -

"Flower of Honeysuckle jin yin hooted

Forsythia suspensa lian qiao

mint added pepper bo he

Grass of Schizonepetae jing jie sui

Burdock village niu pang zi

root of Platycodon / jie geng

Rhizome of read geng reed

Oriental Chinese Racine de Licorice or liquorice sheng gan

"And I am supposed to find all of these things?"

"Little Joe go to father of Hop Sing and ask him. He will give you everything you need."

"I will go to home of honorable father of Hop Sing and searching for chocolate read geng and sheng," Joe laughed.

Hop Sing had no doubt that Joe made fun of his list but tonight Hop Sing was not offended by it. For the first time since Ben had fallen sick he saw young Joe laughing and he was not going to deprive him of his joy.

Joe headed out to the barn and saddled Cochise and galloped off towards Virginia City

"Hop sing, I just saw Joe tearing out of here. Do you know where he's off to?"

Adam had just come back down stairs from his father's room.

"He's riding to Virginia City to get what Hop Sing need to make medicine. How is father?"

"No change. He is still unconscious and still."

Adam took a glass of brandy and put it to his lips. It was strong and gave him a boost. He did not finish the glass. Without his father, even their best alcohol was more tasteless than tea that the nice ladies drank. The brandy was Ben Cartwright as was a game of chess, a good book, a roar of laughter or and anecdote. In short, life on the Ponderosa seemed to be in a coma also and Adam didn't know what to do. He didn't want to do anything. He couldn't manage to read or to get needed sleep. He was tired, really tired. Hoss had found Adam dozing in his blue chair by the fire a few times and was glad to let him sleep.

Joe came back quickly with a sack full of greenery, leaves of different sizes, odorous flowers and some whitish roots. He had not wasted any time. He knew these ends of vegetables were going to save his father's life. He rushed into the kitchen and threw his bag on the table.

"Hop Sing, I have everything you need. Can you hurry now and make the cure for my Pa?"

"Yes I will but I need Little Joe to settle down. Hop Sing does not want to be scolded all time."

"I promise Hop Sing. I just want this nightmare to end."

Little Joe got the message that Hop sing didn't want him in his kitchen and headed into the great room. He stood there trying to think of something he needed to do or that had to be done, but his eyes went straight to the staircase that led to his father's room. Then Adam started down the stairs. He had spent the last two hours sitting by his father's bedside and was in need of a cup of strong coffee.

"Hey Joe, you got back. That was very quick."

"You really think I was going to waste time. I picked all the roots that were needed and rode as fast as I could. Cooch nearly tossed me more that once I pushed him so hard."

"I can only imagine. Say, did you see Hoss on your way?"

"Why?"

"I think he left on Chubb. He didn't say a word to anyone and took off. I thought maybe you crossed paths."

"You want me to go look for him? Cooch is still saddled up."

"No, you're tired and I'm sure your horse is tired. He'll be back soon. He probably just needed some time alone. You know how he is. I would like that coffee though."

"I'll tell Hop Sing and I'll be nice about it," Joe laughed. "I don't want to upset him while he's making up the cure."

"This is it. Hop Sing prepare cure for Mistel Caltwight. Are you going to give it to him? He need to drink all in glass."

Joe jumped up from the settee he'd be resting on trying his best to stay calm, "We will help. You can count on us."

The three men rushed up the stairs. Hop sing held the small bottle filled with light brown think liquid. It smelled bad but in times of trouble hopefully this was the cure. They entered Ben's room. The atmosphere was heavy and a feeling of despair filled the room.

"He must drink all I put in glass. Then we put rest on mistle Ben chest."

"You're going to put this stuff on my father? It is filthy."

"Joe, let him do it. He knows what he's doing." Once again Adam snubbed his brother.

"Help me straighten him and take off his shirt."

Ben was dead weight and Adam and Joe found it very difficult to turn him.

"Here, I'll help ya," came a voice by the doorway. Adam turned at the sound of Hoss' voice.

"Where have you been?"

"Later Adam."

He took his father and pulled him up while Joe slipped two pillows behind his back. They still had to support their father when he fell right away to the side.

Hop Sing poured part of the contents into a glass and the rest of the bottle into a bowl. He poured it into Ben's mouth and it ran down the corners of his lips. Adam grabbed a towel and carefully wiped his father's chin. A reversal of rolls, he thought. He remembered when his father had done this for him when he was barely three years old. And now situations were reversed and he was doing it for his Pa. Hop Sing continued on. He started rubbing the mixture on Ben's chest. His torso became tinged with the brown liquid and the ends of the leaves pressed themselves onto his body. Hop Sing was not troubled and he started to massage the liquid on Ben's chest. After ten minutes he stopped and said to the boys, "Now it necessary to wait and let medicine work. We leave him now.:

Hop Sing rinsed his hands off and gestured to the boys to leave. They all met down in the great room. "You want to tell where you were now Hoss?"

"I just saddled up ole Chubb and took off towards the lake. I'm sorry I didn't tell anybody, but I just needed some time by myself. I walked along the edge of the lake picking up stones and throwing them in the lake. I realized when I was there that I was very alone. I shouted. I stood there and screamed at no one. "

"No need to apologize big brother. We may all feel the same but we all act differently. We have concerns that gnaw at us and we can't act differently than what we are."

Hoss and Adam exchanged a long look and Hoss knew he could always count on his elder brother. He had temperament and self control. Hoss admired and appreciated him, even more in this difficult time. Joe remained silent but felt all the anxiety that Hoss did. Yes they were all different but they all had the same question, when was their father going to wake up?

The tears streamed down his cheeks as he slammed his fists into the trunk of the tree. He didn't realize that the joints of his fingers were chafed and bloody. His eyes were closed, maybe he was praying. He murmured, " It's so unfair - it isn't possible."

Hoss and Adam found him, their young brother was expressing his anger on this pine. He was only trying to let out the anger that burned inside him. He felt the pain in the nape of his neck and his head felt like it was crushed in a vise. His gasping chest raised itself up. His heart was beating so fast he thought he might blow up. Anger and Rage, these words resounded in him and hurt him. He wanted to knock, to bang, finally to get this demon out of him that made him act this way. He bore a grudge against the whole world and that's why he wanted to be alone. He was so upset that he felt he was dangerous. He turned to his brothers and rejected them violently.

"Go away and leave me alone."

"Joe, buddy, we just want to help you."

"I don't want your help."

Joe struggled, wriggled in every direction, but Hoss caught him by the arm and held him firmly. He barely managed to contain the violence in Joe and had already taken many blows. He refused to hit his little brother. But this was so different, so emotional and it weighed heavily on Hoss. He wouldn't hit him but Joe had to calm down.

Adam was also upset. His words seemed useless. Joe was not in a fit state to listen or to be reasoned with.

"That's enough Joseph."

Hoss lost his temper when Joe gave him a violent punch in the stomach. An enormous slap landed on Joe's cheek. Joe recovered his self control. He stopped and put his hand to his cheek which had already turned a shade of red. Then he collapsed.

"I'm sorry Hoss."

"It's forgotten."

"Forgotten? I killed our father and you act like it's nothing."

"Joe calm down."

Adam sprung on Joe after hearing what he'd said. "I do not want to hear you talk like that Joe. Pa's not dead!"

"I know that he won't recover now and I'm responsible. I made a mistake. I brought back the bad root and now he's poisoned."

"Joe, just stop now and listen. Yes there was an error. Hop Sing said Pa just had an allergic reaction, but it's not fatal."

"Ok now you're a doctor Mr. I know everything. How can you be sure?"

Adam had had it and pulled Joe away from Hoss and slammed him into the trunk of the tree. "Listen to me and listen well you pig headed kid. I am fed up to here and you are getting on everyone's nerves. You are going to calm yourself down and listen. Since pa is in this state, I have tried hard to hold it all together. It is my role as the older brother to be strong and responsible. I have to have a cool head but did you ever wonder what I might feel? I've had enough. You think it's easy for me? It's not. It's hard for me too. I also fear for Pa. I want him to recover fast and I hate seeing him like he is right now. Do you think I am heartless?"

Adam was out of breath after his tirade and not taking time to breath. But everything had come to a head. It had been too much for too long.

"I'm sorry Adam. I was only thinking of myself. I'm ashamed of how I acted."

Adam looked away, exhausted by the violence of his emotions which had come over him. Slowly he backed up before raising his head and meeting the gaze of his two brothers. "Well, I guess we all needed this. Now that's it's all out, I feel better. You ok Hoss?"

"I'm ok Adam, but Joe, next time you punch me in the stomach, I will skin you alive."

Joe didn't answer but threw a true smile to his brothers and the three returned home. There was a buggy parked in front of the house. It wasn't the doctor. Rather a big and luxurious model. Who would come to visit the Cartwrights?

Joe, Hoss, and Adam were impatient to know who their mysterious visitor was. These last hours, they had seen only the cart of the doctor, who had promised to reveal nothing in the city of their father's state of health. Oh naturally, the comfort of the neighbours would have been appreciated; but Adam also knew that many crooked minds would have been able to use it to put together all kinds of plans to take over the lands of the Ponderosa. Adam, supported by his brothers, did not want to give them a chance. He would always have time to notify the doctor if the health of their father immediately declined. He paused to dispel from his mind these terrible imaginings; a short pause, which his brothers noticed nevertheless.

"So, what are you doing?" said Joe.

"Euh, nothing, excuse me. I'm coming."

Hoss came first, then Joe and Adam. They rushed indoors. Two persons sat with their backs to them; they sat in the chesterfield and were drinking a cup of tea. There was a tanned woman, dressed elegantly in a pink coloured dress. Her hair was drawn elegantly back up in a sophisticated chignon, which let appear her white nape with a fine golden saltire.

The squeak of the heavy wooden door drew the attention of the man and of the woman, who turned round to have a quick look. The three Cartwright boys discovered the identity of the young woman.

"JOAN, you are here; what a nice surprise."

Adam was the first to react; he made a step towards her, she threw herself into his arms.

"Oh Adam, it is good to return here..."

"What a big surprise, I can't believe it. What are you doing here?"

Hoss and Joe went up in their turn and embraced Joan. They were happy to see her.

"I want you to meet my husband, Henry."

"Henry of the stagecoach?" Adam couldn't have stayed quiet.

"The very one."

Adam remembered very well the scene. It was shortly after Ben had broken with Joan, making it clear to her that they did not have a future. He had bought her a ticket for San Fransisco. At the stagecoach, she had gone up to a young man whom she had already met during the reception which Ben had given at the Ponderosa. This reception had not been great for the boys; their father hadn't given any invitations to the young ladies.

"It has been four months since we have married. Henry found a good place in San Francisco. We wanted to give you a surprise."

"I am delighted for you, Joan," answered Adam.

"I am very happy indeed. But tell me, Adam, what has happened to your father? Hop Sing told us."

"We know nothing about it, unfortunately. It has been five days since he has been unconscious."

"Oh my God, but it is terrible. But why?"

"We don't have any answers, Joanie," Hoss answered.

Any joy disappeared; Joan burst into tears against Adam's shoulder. Henry didn't move. He felt embarrassed because he realized that these three men were not like him. They had no fear, and they could easily take somebody in their arms and show their feelings.

Joe had tears in his eyes, and Hoss very naturally had put his hand on the shoulder of his little brother. Henry was fascinated by Hoss. This giant could have broken the hand of a man, yet could be so sensitive.

"If you stop with all that crying, Hop Sing will bling supper."

They all were happy to see Hop Sing, and they took their places at the table; but as Joan saw Ben's chair, her tears came back.

They sat down at the big table in the dining room. Hop Sing had prepared it with the nicest dishes for parties. And all that in favour of the nice young woman who had come to gladden the home. Her beauty was a delight for three boys; it left no doubt that she was happy and radiant. She sat down to the left of Hoss, while her husband took a chair across from her, next to Joe. Adam took a place at the end of the table, but not in the chair of his father. Hop Sing brought them their meal. He offered them a rainbow of raw vegetables: red beans, leaves of salad, and small white onions. Joan and Hoss began to laugh as they saw beef and potatoes on the table. It was great...it reminded them of so many sad hours.

"So my dear," said Henry, "what makes you laugh? Can you tell us about it, so we'll we laugh together?"

"Hoss and I have a big memory of a similar meal."

"Do you mean you are laughing because of potatoes?"

"Yes, but it reminds us a famous moment we lived."

Joe tried to explain to Henry what had happened. "That day, your delightful wife showed us she could throw dishes very well."

"I dont understand."

"There's nothing to understand," Joan said. "I didn't want to eat, and I said to Hoss, 'Potatoes are not welcome here.' I sent him back. And then Mr. Cartwright convinced me."

Henry said to Adam, "It seems your father can be a very persuasive man."

"Oh yes, he is. He has always had strong arguments."

Joan's face became red; Joe saw it and smiled at her. Adam did too. No one said another word about the scene

Everybody was standing up on the Ponderosa, it was sunday, so no need of getting out the bed. Everybody could sleep like a hog. Hop Sing brought breakfast at 9.00. Adam Joe and Hoss were eating, but Hoss was in the barn. He had to keep an eye on a mare, which should give birth in the following days. Henry came down, he was a tall slender man, and even if he was only wearing a night dress, he always had a certain elegance and class. His night-dress was a well-cut one, and for shure it had been made in the best fabrics in San Francisco.

- I wish you a good day, gentlemen.

- Good morning, Henry. Please take place, there's hot coffee for you. Would you like some eggs ?

- Oh, on first, I would like to have a cup of coffee, thanks Adam. Oh did you have seen Joan this morning ?

- Oh no, Joe and I were the first here. We haven't seen anybody. And Hoss were too, but he's in the barn.

- Maybe she went out to have a little walk.

- Hoss is in the barn. He will see her.

- Ok, no need beeing worried.

Someone opened the door, Hoss came in, he was nervous and angry.

- Hey Hoss, what's the matter ? Have you seen a ghost ?

- Very funny, little Joe. I will tell you, and then, we will see, if you will keep this smile.

- OK ; tell us.

- Buck has disappeared, his box is empty. Someone took him.

- What, Buck ? It's a joke ?

- Adam, do you think, I will be able to do such stupids joke. I'm not Joe.

- Wait a minut, you. What have you said ?

- Joe has stood up; and is about to fight with his brother.

- Shut up, Joe. Sit down and eat. And then you will have to dry the table, look, you have spilled your coffee.

Joe shoot a terrible glance towards Adam; who had just snubed him. Joe had enough of his two big brothers. Adam was taking the place of Pa and Hoss had called him a schoolkid.

-OK OK, and what will we do ? Do we have to look after Buck ?

-Gentlemen, may I do a suggestion ?

-Oh yes, Henry. For shure.

-A few minutes ago I told you, Joan wasn't to be seen. Is it possible that she had taken the horse for a little riding ?

-Do you mean, Joan would have taken the horse of our father ?

-Yes, I think so, she is a good rider.

-Yes, but I can't believe, she will be able to saddle Buck and leave with him.

Adam was a perplex man; for shure he would have given a horse to Joan, if she had asked for. But she hadn't and the way she had acted was annoying him. Nobody knew about this. So much incidents could happen to her, and they didn't know, the direction she had taken.

-Maybe we can wait and see, she was perhaps in need of being alone; and she will come back.

-And if not ?

-Then we will make a decision. She's an adult and our guest. I think, Pa would not have been mad.

Hoss, once more, was the wise man of the family.

-Ok, hoss, but not much as one hour. And then, we will look after her.

Adam seat down and drank his cold coffee, the other too

It was nearly three p.m. when they rode back to the ranch. On a normal day they would have taken care of the horses, but they let them out. They had spent more than three hours on horseback, and they hadv searched in every corner of the territory. They had been in town, but nobody had seen Joan. They were exhausted and Adam was now very afraid. No one needed this new problem. It was so hard seeing an unconscious Ben. And now they had to look after the woman.

"Dadburnit, I can't believe it," said Adam. "Where is she? Oh, Henry, I beg your pardon. I'm very nervous, and I'm anxious for your wife and for my father, too."

"I can understand, Adam. I'm afraid too."

"I have a suggestion. We have to eat something, so we will take a rest and then we will go. We must find her. Nobody knows if she has taken some food. I will have a talk with Hop Sing."

"Adam went to the kitchen. Joe and Hoss lay down on the couches. They only wanted one thing: to sleep. They closed their eyes; they had spent hours on horses, they were dirty, and they had dust on their clothes and in their mouths.

"WHAT, SHE'S HOME? JOAN IS HERE, AND YOU SAY THAT IN A VERY NORMAL VOICE! DADBURNIT...HOP SING? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY IT BEFORE…"

Joe and Hoss stood up, very quickly, in spite of exhaustion, they went to the kitchen. Adam was shaking the poor Hop Sing. Hoss and Joe had never seen such a scene. Adam was furious, and even the walls were shaking.

"Mistel Caltlight Number One not asked Hop Sing, Hop Sing would have told it!"

It was difficult for him to speak, Adam was taking it out so hard on poor Hop Sing. Hoss didn't hesitate any longer; he came to help Hop Sing. "Adam, let him go."

"NOT BEFORE I MAKE HIM EAT HIS HAIR. HE JUST INFORMED ME THAT JOAN IS HERE."

"OH, What great news...Okay, go and ask her where she's been, and then we'll eat something..."

"GOOD NEWS? AM I DREAMING? Oh sh...GO TO HELL. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS. I WON'T STAY HERE..."

And Adam left the kitchen, his eyes flashing with anger. He took his hat and his jacket. He jammed it on his shoulders so violently so that he broke a glass that was behind it. And then he slammed the door

Now, after throttling Hop Sing, Adam slammed the door, that same door that had been slammed so many times. Only Hoss had never done it. Yes, he had left the house whenever he felt sad and afraid. But only Joe and Adam had such violent reactions. Hoss always seemed calm and serene. But now the door slammed, the glass was broken and ugly, and Adam was the one who had broken it.

Henry felt so sorry for all of their trouble. Hoss and Joe were now on the couches again, to get some sleep. They knew that Adam wouldn't stay out long. He would surely let off steam and then he would come back. Neither Hoss or Joe would go to another place; they would sleep here. Henry decided to go upstairs to talk with his wife. So silence descended on the Ponderosa; no voice was heard.

"Please, do that carefully, no need to run. I'm here and you can take my hand."

Hoss opened an eye and saw Joan upstairs, but she wasn't alone; oh no...Ben was with her, a trembling Ben.

"But, but – it's, it's – I can't…"

"Pa, what? JOE? WAKE UP...LOOK, LOOK, IT'S PAAAAA!"

Joe opened an eye; he was about to scold his big brother for yelling. But he saw a hysterical Hoss and just had time to duck. Hoss was moving about wildly; he could have accidentally given Joe a slap."

"What's the matter with you?" Joe yelled. "What a fool you are. Why are you yelling?"

"Joe, look at Joan! Pa is standing up.

Hoss went up the stairs to his father. He hugged him to be sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Pa? How is this possible? I can't believe it! Am I dreaming? Somebody pinch me!" Hoss was yelling and springing and dancing, he was so happy. Suddenly he cried, "Owwwwwwwwwwww, you –"

Joe had arrived and was pinching Hoss's arm. "Paaaaaaaaaa!" Joe yelled. He shouted the same way Hoss did. Ben was hugged by his two sons; they were kissing him, they were shaking him, they were so happy.

"But Pa, how? Oh my God; I'm so happy…WAHOO!"

Little Joe was crying and laughing hysterically at the same time. Hoss wasn't much better; what a crazy moment on the Ponderosa. Joan was watching the scene, and finally decided it was too much emotional for Ben. She managed to push the boys away and took Ben aside to let him breathe.

"Ben, you have to return to your bed. Five steps are enough for someone who has been in bed so long."

Hoss and Joe calmed down immediately when they heard Joan's voice, full of wisdom and good sense.

"Oh yes, Pa, we'll take you to your room."

They were still in shock. The happiness was back in their hearts, and it was wonderful, so they each offered an arm to Ben and brought him to his room. They had 1001 questions in their mouths, but they couldn't put them into words. The moment seemed unreal.

Ben didn't want to go back to bed. He had spent too much time there; he wanted to stand up and walk. He wanted to take a bath too.

"Okay, I'm leaving," Joan said, "but I'll be back."

Hoss left the room and gave a look to Joan. "Joan, we're owed some explanations, aren't we?"

"Well…"

"It's all right, explanations are for later..."

And he gave her a big kiss, a kiss full of joy, relief and gratitude. He didn't understand what was happening, or how it was possible, but it wasn't important. He had just seen his father, who was all right. What a beautiful surprise.

Joe was still with his father. He put his head on Ben's chest. No words came to his lips; he was crying silently. He had so many pictures in his head: Ben's fall, the visits from the doctor, his anger, his fight with his brother, all those terrible moments, and then the scene of today. Ben out his bed. It was too much, too violent for Joe's heart.

Hoss was on the stairs; he still was shocked by what he had experienced, and he almost fell down the stairs. "I must calm down," he thought, "and I have to find Adam. And I have to talk to Hop Sing and to Henry, poor Henry…Okay, I won't take care of Henry; he has a wife. But I have to talk with Adam."

He went to the door. When he saw Henry, he gave him a friendly look and said briefly, "Joan is upstairs in her room."

Then he went out; the cold breeze was welcome. He wiped his eyes with his shirt and walked slowly. Adam, where was he to find him? He knew where Joe went when he needed some comfort; he went to his mother's grave. But Adam, the big strong brother, where did he find comfort when he felt sad? His instincts told him that Adam was in the barn – because that was where his best friend was, his horse Sport. Hoss went to the barn; yes, Adam was there. He was rubbing down the horse.

"This makes me feel better," Hoss said, "and Sport's coat looks beautiful."

"I can see that," Adam replied. "Sport is as clean as a whistle."

"Please, Adam, you have to put up your brush. Something's waiting for you…"

"Oh yes, I know; sorry, Hoss, I heard it when I went out. What was it? A glass?"

"No one gives a damn about that stupid glass. There's something incredible. Pa is out of the bed, he's all right and I saw him walk."

"NOOOO!" Adam put his hands on his head and shook.

"Hey, Adam, you won't pass out, will you? Hey, stay with me, sit down."

Hoss began to slap Adam; and then he took a bucket full of water and threw it in Adam's face. Adam moved backwards, protesting, "HEY, what's the matter with you, you fool?"

"Oh , you're back, that's great. Sorry about the water, but you were about to pass out. Are you all right?"

"Yes, but you should have used fresher water. That smelled like urine."

"The end justifies the means. Okay, do you want to keep on talking about the way I made you come back, or do we go see Pa?"

"Sure, let's go. Hey, Hoss, no need to tell Joe..."

"Don't worry. Joe wasn't much better than you when I left him. We were both crying so much, we could have filled Lake Tahoe

One month later. This wonderfull day has not been forgotten, Hoss, Joe and Adam would never forgot the big happyness they have had, as they have seen their father walk... Joan had explained; why she had left the ranch so secretely... She was going to hold a medicine by the paiutes... She had taken very much risks, the paiutes could have killed her... She did know that, thats why she had taken Buck, because she knew, they had a lot of respect for Ben Cartwright and they wouldn't have hurted her on this horse... And it had worked; she had had a medicine and Ben was alive and ill... And she had helped Ben to stand up, because he has wanted to do a surprise to his sons... Paul Martin had been invited too, and he had had the biggest surprise he ever had in his life as men and as a doctor... He had been so happy... He had had a so emotionnal moment. He had endured so much tragic moments, more deaths than miracles... And it was great, that Ben was one of this little miracles...

As a doctor he had been able to say that Ben had no aftereffect , so that Ben had shorted the convalescence Paul had noticed... His faculties were the same, he told and has lost no words no capacity... And his voice was the same ; deep, powerfull and firm... Ponderosa was shaking, when Ben was raising his voice, but no one regretted that... They all had missed him... Very often it was possible to hear « yes sir » everywhere, at differents moments of the day... Even Adam was sayindg « yes sir »; and it was a miracle too... Because everybody knows, that Adam didn't like this expression... .

Ben was the boss again, he was in charge again, all he had to do, was to work at his desk? He couldn't ride Buck, he wasn't solid enough... He has been bedridden for a long time and his muscles had melt. That's why Hops Sing was cooking a lot of food; and ordered to mistel Caltwight to eat all that was in his plate.

On this morning Ben was calculating on his book, wenn he heard Joan...

« Ben, sorry, may I talk to you ?

- no need for sorry. I am about to do a break... I've got so much to do...

- Ben, I can't let you saying that... Your sons made a great work here...

- Yes, you're right... I beg for your pardon... You'll be able to make me sick, now I know what you can do with medicine and flowers...

- Oh Ben, don't laugh at me...

- I'm not laughing... I was so surprised to see, that you have kept so much memories of your old world...

- I have to say something.. The paiute chief let me leave; but nobody will take what I have inside in my heart. I belong to the indian world... My blood is one of e white woman, but my soul, my heart and my spirit are indian.

- You're a great woman, Joan, with courage, determination and sensibility...

- But you're somebody great too, Benjamin... The Paiute chief would never have accepted to help a white man... He let me time to speak about you; so he has refused to kill me... He was ready to help him, and he knew , I was the only one who was able to save you...

- I can't believe it, you had risked your own life to save me...

Ben stood up and hugged Joan... He had to fight against his own feelings; she was married... And he have to try to calm his heart.

- So, I'm listening. What do you want to say ?

- Henry and I want to buy a house here... We like Ponderosa but we need a real place for us.

- I see, what you mean, Joan... I understand, and it will be a great pleasure for me to help you.. I can go tomorrow to Virginia City and ask for that...

-Oh thanks Ben, you're a lovely one...

Joan left the room.. She needed to go out, to have a breath... She walked a few, then seat down on a big stone, her eyes were lost in the even... So much emotions were mixing in his head... A real storm was about to start ….

«*poor Joan, what happens to you... You ' re troubled by Ben... You could hardly keep control, when he has hold you... He is so handsome, so protectionnal and strong... You need a man like him. You know that, you won't resist... You love him...

There was however an other voice in her heart :

- hey, what 's the matter with you? You did your choice. Nobody has forced you to marry Henry... He didn't play with you, he has true feelings for you... That's normal, Ben did a lot for you, there's something special betwenn you and him... But you know that : you're a married woman... And nothing can break it...

For shure she loved Henry... Her ring was prooving it... When she had sais 'Yes I do', she didn't have thought to another man... That was the reality... She had to leave Ponderosa, she had to find a house... When she came back, Ben was always at his desk... She didn't stop and went upstairs to her room... She had to do something to calm her mind... She started to arrange some clothes; but it didn't work. Even she was trying to concentrate herself on something; her mind was full of little memories : a green dress, a shoe. That had been a funny moment; the shoes were too small and she had threwn them through the window... Ben had gave them an other room, not THE room she had had after her arrival on the Ponderosa... Or else she would heve had an other memory with the bed. A burning memory, a memory with Ben, again...

She took a pillow and threw it against the wall... What was wrong with her ? ?A grown up woman shoud never behave so badly... Even by the paiutes, only papoose could do that, not the squaw.. It was the same for white women... She had to calm down... She had to try to make Ben going out of her mind... But was it possible ? She had admitted, the paiute world was always hers; and the feelings ? Her love for Henry was sincere; but would he be strong enough, stronger than her feelings for ben ?

Someone was coming in the stairs. She had to calm down. It was...

"Joan, dear…are you working?" Henry asked as he came in the bedroom.

"Working? Not really, I am taking care of our clothes."

Listening her own voice, Joan had the impression that somebody else was talking. She was trying to use the right words, to be more respectable. She tried to speak like Henry's sisters, who were ladies of San Francisco.

"Would you like to go out?" Henry asked. "We can take the buggy. Ben told me about differents ranches. We can see them; what do you think?"

"It's a great idea. I'll get a jacket and come."

It was a very good idea; she had to leave Ponderosa to clear her head and to calm her heart.

Ben had started his job in the barn. He wanted to test the harnesses and clean out the boxes. He remembered Joan's words about the work his sons had done. He had had said nothing in response; they had indeed done very good work on the ranch, but Ben was a perfectionist and his pride commanded him to take care of the ranch again. He was the boss. He was feeling great today; he was in top form...

While he was working he glanced towards the old trunks in a corner of the barn. He wanted to open one, so he did…and the past suddenly hit him in the face. It was the trunk where he had put so many memories, including some dresses Marie had bought. As he touched the white dress she wore for the wedding, he couldn't keep control, and tears began to roll down on his face. I haven't cried for a long time, he thought; but today he let them flow. Pictures and memories jostled each other in his head: Marie's smile, so pretty in her dress; her rounded stomach before Joe was born; the games with Hoss; the way she would talk with Adam, even if she did not always share his opinion.

Ben sat down and looked at the floor, touching a white pillow; she had embroidered two letters on it: M.C. Marie Cartwright. This pillow…he had wanted to burn it, but today he was happy to see it. He could smell it, and it reminded him of Marie. This pillow was able to fill the emptiness of his heart; it gave him warmth and comfort. It was the magic of love...Marie was taking care of him, he knew that.

And now he remembered that when he was in his bed last night, he had seen Elisabeth, Inger and Marie. They had wanted to take him by the hand; they had called him with soft voices and tender smiles. He could have left his bed to go with them, but he had heard another voice; another woman had called him too. But she wasn't in the white light, but in the light of the sun, in the light of Ponderosa…and he had refused to go towards the white light. He had chosen to go towards this voice: Joan's voice...

He dried his eyes and folded the dress again. He closed the door of the trunk and left the barn. He was sad, oh yes, very sad. Sad because he was a widower, because he was alone. Long after the happy years had gone, he was still nostalgic for them. He had loved every day with the women of his life, but now he hated the loneliness that he had to live. He wanted to enjoy pleasant moments with a woman: being two in a bed, making love and having fun, and dancing. Elisabeth, Inger and Mary had always danced with their eyes locked on his, with wonderful smiles, and Ben had enjoyed it.

Suddenly he realized that Joan had never looked down either; she had dared to look him straight in the eyes. And she had destabilized him! Benjamin Cartwright wasn't in used to that. She was a wonderful woman…and now she was happy, so he was happy too.

Really?

No.

He had to fight against his own feelings, and he wasn't sure he would win. He wasn't able to listen the voice of reason; he couldn't control his mind and his heart. Cupid on was acting against him, trying to trouble him.

Ben had only one wish: to hold Joan in his arms again. Joan. It was a little name, only four letters, but they filled his mind

Someone was coming in the stairs. She had to calm down. It was...

"Joan, dear…are you working?" Henry asked as he came in the bedroom.

"Working? Not really, I am taking care of our clothes."

Listening her own voice, Joan had the impression that somebody else was talking. She was trying to use the right words, to be more respectable. She tried to speak like Henry's sisters, who were ladies of San Francisco.

"Would you like to go out?" Henry asked. "We can take the buggy. Ben told me about differents ranches. We can see them; what do you think?"

"It's a great idea. I'll get a jacket and come."

It was a very good idea; she had to leave Ponderosa to clear her head and to calm her heart.

Ben had started his job in the barn. He wanted to test the harnesses and clean out the boxes. He remembered Joan's words about the work his sons had done. He had had said nothing in response; they had indeed done very good work on the ranch, but Ben was a perfectionist and his pride commanded him to take care of the ranch again. He was the boss. He was feeling great today; he was in top form...

While he was working he glanced towards the old trunks in a corner of the barn. He wanted to open one, so he did…and the past suddenly hit him in the face. It was the trunk where he had put so many memories, including some dresses Marie had bought. As he touched the white dress she wore for the wedding, he couldn't keep control, and tears began to roll down on his face. I haven't cried for a long time, he thought; but today he let them flow. Pictures and memories jostled each other in his head: Marie's smile, so pretty in her dress; her rounded stomach before Joe was born; the games with Hoss; the way she would talk with Adam, even if she did not always share his opinion.

Ben sat down and looked at the floor, touching a white pillow; she had embroidered two letters on it: M.C. Marie Cartwright. This pillow…he had wanted to burn it, but today he was happy to see it. He could smell it, and it reminded him of Marie. This pillow was able to fill the emptiness of his heart; it gave him warmth and comfort. It was the magic of love...Marie was taking care of him, he knew that.

And now he remembered that when he was in his bed last night, he had seen Elisabeth, Inger and Marie. They had wanted to take him by the hand; they had called him with soft voices and tender smiles. He could have left his bed to go with them, but he had heard another voice; another woman had called him too. But she wasn't in the white light, but in the light of the sun, in the light of Ponderosa…and he had refused to go towards the white light. He had chosen to go towards this voice: Joan's voice...

He dried his eyes and folded the dress again. He closed the door of the trunk and left the barn. He was sad, oh yes, very sad. Sad because he was a widower, because he was alone. Long after the happy years had gone, he was still nostalgic for them. He had loved every day with the women of his life, but now he hated the loneliness that he had to live. He wanted to enjoy pleasant moments with a woman: being two in a bed, making love and having fun, and dancing. Elisabeth, Inger and Mary had always danced with their eyes locked on his, with wonderful smiles, and Ben had enjoyed it.

Suddenly he realized that Joan had never looked down either; she had dared to look him straight in the eyes. And she had destabilized him! Benjamin Cartwright wasn't in used to that. She was a wonderful woman…and now she was happy, so he was happy too.

Really?

No.

He had to fight against his own feelings, and he wasn't sure he would win. He wasn't able to listen the voice of reason; he couldn't control his mind and his heart. Cupid on was acting against him, trying to trouble him.

Ben had only one wish: to hold Joan in his arms again. Joan. It was a little name, only four letters, but they filled his mind

And both gave each other a hug.

"You know, Ben, from you I've learned what's real life and humanity. I can say it now, your sons showed me how to give confort and how to show my feelings. I stood here unable to confort my wife, and then I saw Adam take Joan in his arm and hug her. And I saw Hoss comforting Joe; that was so beautiful."

"We are doing wrong when we're try to cover our feelings. I always said it to my sons: ok, you're holding a Colt revolver, but you've got to listen to your heart. So often I saw one of my sons totally lost, because he had to shoot someone. He had to do it because his life was threatened, but every time he did it, he had an ex-friend in front of him. It was so hard for him. I'm so proud of my sons, because they're able to express their feelings, their fears and anger. Only sincerity can save humanity from brutality and indifference."

"Oh, dear Ben, your words are always the same, so lovely and so touching." Ben turned towards Joan; neither he or Henry had heard her. She was wearing light little shoes, which made no noise on the stairs.

"Joan, you're wonderful, so pretty. Oh, sorry, Henry, but your wife is so lovely. I'm very glad having you at our table. You 're the most beautiful flower of the Ponderosa."

"Ben, I won't be jealous," Henry smiled.

"Ben, would you like to give me your arm?"

"Oh yes, I would."

Ben bowed to her and took her hand.

"My dear Joan, we have to wait. The boys are still upstairs."

"No, no, Pa, we're coming."

And the three boys ran down the stairs. Adam kissed Joan's hand. "We're sorry for being late," he said. "Joe did his hair three time because he wasn't satisfied, and Hoss had trouble with his tie: he never finds one that lets him have enough air. It always strangles him, and he doesn't like it."

"Big Brother, do you need to say all that stuff to Joan?" Hoss demanded. "She wants to hear something else."

Joe was coming too. He wanted to kiss Joan, so he gave her a little kiss on the cheek, breathing in her perfume.

"Hoss," Joan gasped, "What are you doing?" Hoss had just grabbed her in his arms, twirling her around. "Hoss, please, I will fall...you're making me dizzy."

"Sorry, Joan..."

Four week later, Joan and Henry are in town -

"Ok Mr. Dexter. since Jonathon Handricks is dead, the house belongs to you. I have the papers here for you to sign."

"Your honor, do you agree that my wife should sign also?"

"It's not normal procedure but since she is your wife, she may also sign."

Joan was so proud. Ben had explained to her that she had to take her place as a woman in society. She had lived with so many emotions since she had left the paiutes. She is a married woman and will now have a home. It is the second official paper she has signed. Her marriage certificate being the first. She had been nervous picking up the quill pen and trying to figure out how to use it. But Ben had taken the time to teach her. She had practiced a lot and was proud that she knew how to use it. She had read about politics, economics and literature. She was very curious about everything. Adam had brought her books and they had long discussions.

Joe, very carefully tried to correct her English which Adam found quite amusing. Joe had finally gotten her to stop saying, 'I spit on your mother's shadow', but in the meantime had taught her new phrases that would have made Ben angry if he'd heard.

Hoss said he had nothing to teach her since he didn't like school. Joan thought he was wrong and enjoyed every minute with him learning about animals and nature. His big tall hat reminded her of the Paiutes and how they also talked about trees and clouds.

"Ben Cartwright is a great man. Without him, we never could have bought this house. I am so thankful for him."

"Yes he is a great man and my best friend. Most people here don't trust strangers and don't want to sell land or houses to people they don't know. But it is different with Ben Cartwright's friends. That's why Johathan Handrick's family said yes to your proposition. It is a good house and a good piece of land. Do you want to become a farmer now Mr. Dexter?"

"Oh no! I would never do that. I work with my brain, not my hands. I will keep my job in San Francisco."

"What is your profession?'

"I'm a lawyer."

"Why didn't you tell me that my friend?

Joan and Henry decided it was time to entertain in their new home and sent out many invitations to their upcoming party. These were all people they had met through the Cartwright's except for an old friend of Henry's. A violinist that has come all the way from San Francisco and sets fire to the room.

He starts out with a polka and as his fingers run up and down the neck of the violin, the dancers have to stop and just admire when they realize they can't begin to keep up the fast pace. Even as they try to stand and clap their hands, they can't keep up with the tempo. The old man keeps playing with a genuine smile on his face. His feet seem to be moving as fast as his fingers and the crowd is highly entertained and amused. His fingers move even faster until the strings start to fray and snap on the bow. When he finishes he lifts his instrument to the heavens and shouts out with glee.

The music has stopped and there is silence within the room. The crowd seems to hesitate and then turn lively with applause for the great virtuoso. They all congratulate him for his awesome demonstration.

When he returns to playing, he has chosen a simple square dance a mazurka and another polka that everyone in the room can dance to. The other musicians from Virginia City join in and the party is in full swing. The old man hits a few wrong notes as they play a waltz but no on cares. The bearded violinist has come here with love and music in his heart and he keeps on smiling to reassure them.

Joan learns how to dance a mazurka with Ben. She misses a few steps but he helps her and leans down and whispers in her ear when it's time to jump. She manages to settle into the music with Ben's help. He pinches her on her back to show her the movements and make sure she know when to jump.

When the dance is finished, Adam, dressed in his fine black suit and string tie, raises his hands above his head clapping and cuts through the crowd to the center of the room and he calls for silence.

"Hey Adam! What have you got to say? You going to get married too before the year is out?"

"Maybe you found gold and want to share with all of your friends?"

"Sorry, my friend," says Adam

The musicians have taken a break and as Adam speaks, Ben is guiding Joan to a table in the back of the room.

"No Joan, you stay here. Henry!" Adam yells, " I want you over here too."

Joan and Henry clasp hands and walk to the middle of the room and stand next to Adam. " Ok my friends, it's now time for you to open your gifts."

"Gifts? But Adam we didn't expect anything. " Joan scans the room at all of her new friends she and Henry have made, thanks to the Cartwright's.

" They may be the the best or the worst gifts."

Joan turns to Henry trying to guess what they will receive. Then Adam's first words are clear to Joan.

"According to the statements of senator Douglas, half of our houses is filled with trivial and useless things and the other half is empty. Nature hates emptiness; so we are going to fill it.

They tug vigorously to pull the nails out of the top of the wooden box. Adam heads up to show everybody what it contains.

"Dear Joan,dear Henry, I don't want to say that you will not be able to full up the spaces of your lives or of your home.

"Adam," shouted Ben in a loud whisper.

Ben turned on Adam sharply. He didn't want his son to forget his manners especially if he was going to speak publically.

"As I said before, here is something to fill up space." Adam reached into the box and pulled out a book. He smiled up at Joan and Henry, "Many books. Different books. There is literature, diaries and the famous theories of Senator Douglass that my brothers and acquired a printed copy of. With all of these book at your fingertips, you will never be at a loss for a passage." Adam's statement came with a smile, the smile of Adam Cartwright that makes women want to either kiss him or choke him. Joan chose the second...

"Adam Cartwright, you're a pickle, but I'm very touched and I will find a special place in my home for these wonderful books."

"I'm quite certain I have one more book for you here in my pocket Joan. You might remember this one," he said pulling out a small booklet. He handed it off to Joan and she glanced at the title, 'The book of Good Manners' by Lady Stanhope of England.

"Oh Adam, I can't believe you. You are such a prankster."

"No I'm not. I'm just very observant. Problem is, you will have to wait a week or so because the book wasn't available, but with this paper, you will receive a copy."

"I will do that and then I will make you eat the cover..."

"Oh no, you wouldn't dare. It seems like sacrilege to even suggest it."

That's when both of them burst into laughter. Not everyone in the room understands but the are laughing too. The surprises aren't over. Hoss is next.

"Thanks Adam but it's my turn now. Ok Joan, you know I ain't no great lover of literature. But I agree with Adam that no one likes an empty house. Now, my gift to you is much more practical the big brother's here. Out in front of the house is a wagon full of pots and pans and enough produce from Hop Sings garden to last you quite a while. There are potatoes, lentils, peas and beans but there is one condition."

"And what's that Hoss?"

"Well ma'am, once a month you will have to cook up something real good and invite me to dinner."

"I think that can be arranged Hoss," Joan said as she reached up and gave the big man an even bigger kiss on his cheek. Henry reached over and shook hands with Hoss, telling him thank you without words. Hoss stood and blushed at the compliments he was receiving.

"Well, well, well, big brother, I think it's my turn now

Joe is next in line with his gift. He is out of patience with his older brothers and adjusting his string tie that matches his new blue suit, he stands there with a bit of a smirk on his face.

"Ok, ok, I was clearly listening about all this talk about emptiness and if I understood my brother correctly, nobody likes an empty home. But...I can also remember that there are times when you have a need to drive people away. Am I right? That's why I have decided to make this your gift."

Hoss and Adam carry in another large wooden crate and pry the top open. Joe reached in and pulled out a lovely blue printed plate. "There are a dozen here for you Joan," he smiled.

"As I said these are for you. If you want, you can serve delicious meals on them or if you have a mind to, you can throw them at your husband or even at the wall."

"Joseph!" Ben reprimanded.

"Oh Joe."

"Sorry Joan, I couldn't help myself."

"Thank you Joe. But I will make you a promise in front of everyone, that I will never throw another plate again."

"Oh, that's too bad. You are the best." he laughed.

Joe turned to the musicians. " And now may we have a waltz in honor of Joan and ..."

As the musician start to play, Adam escorts Joan to the center of the room as the guests make a circle around the two of them. No sooner than they begin the waltz, Hoss cuts in on Adam. Hoss may not be a graceful as his older brother but Joan is happy to be in the arms of the big-hearted man.

It's Joe's turn and he slips in behind his over grown brother and taps him on the shoulder. Hoss steps aside and hands Joan over. Joe is a graceful dancer like his father and gathers Joan in close to him until he steps back and lets her pass under his arm and signals to Henry that it's finally his turn.

Henry smiles and bows respectfully to his wife. He takes her hand in his and rests his other on her back. He eases her into a turn slowly and then picks up the pace. Henry is also a fine dancer and everyone watches the couple closely as he begins with his left foot which confuses his audience. He and Joan head out counterclockwise which is totally oposite of a normal waltz that the residence of Virginia City are used to. Joan is so light on her feet that you can't even hear the swish of his long satin dress.

There feet overlap in a hormonious way; it is magical to watch. It is late, the party is ending... They are living their wedding party again... Their ball, their waltz... A rain of multicoulored ribbon fall on them. All the guests had paper streamers tucked in their pockets that they threw on the young couple, but the waltz continues. They keep on dancing. They never want the night to end..

It is not far from half past two when the musicians announce the last dance: a slow waltz for those who have still energy or who want to sketch a last step, a last turn on the track. One two three, one two three, a soft melody; and it is Adam who has the last dance with Joan. He turns her slowly, fixing his eyes on hers. Without a doubt, the son has the same heart-stopping look as the father…a deep, loving and powerful look.

But the instruments finally fall silent as the musicians stop, exhausted but happy. It was a nice party, and they appreciated being accompanied by this wonderful violonist. It gave another dimension to the party, for sure. They will discuss it for a long time, this party given by Joan and her husband.

One after another the guests leave the home after having warmly thanked their hosts. It is a quiet evening, and the wagons move away; only the Cartwright are on the step of the door. They get ready to leave.

"Thank you, Joan for this party," Ben tells her. "It was delightful for my sons and me."

"Hey, Pa," Adam interrupts, "we're able to thank our hostess ourselves, and to pay our own compliments."

"Of course, Adam…"

Hoss and Joe have a special way to thank Joan: a loud kiss on each cheek. Adam is more discreet and kisses her on the hand.

"Thank you for this delightful party, dear friend. It was very nice and I appreciated the last dance."

And he does not forget to thank Henry for having lent him his wife. Henry smiles at the joke and shakes his hand warmly; then he does the same to Hoss and Joe.

"Be sure to come back to the Ponderosa."

"Yes, we will, don't worry."

Ben climbs up in the buggy and grabs the reins. They all shake hands and disappear into the night of the plains. It's a short way to Ponderosa, about forty-five minutes, but Ben appreciates having his sons with him. He is tired; it was a long work day and it's late.

Adam sits back and gives his brothers a look. "Hm, Pa. My two brothers are in the arms of Morphée." He chuckles. "No doubt they spent more time with the punch than with their dancing partners. Personally, I appreciated the quality of music. Jeff and his buddies have never played as well." He is quiet, and Ben smiles. Adam continues, "For once they didn't slaughter the waltz…But the most credit belongs to the violinist that Henry invited. What a virtuoso – he really fooled me! I think they'll hear about it in Virginia City." He sighs. "It's a great pleasure to hear nice music played by somebody so gifted."

"Yes, I agree with you. It's difficult to dance to his music, but he plays so well. Adam, you had a great idea, arranging that special waltz for Joan and Henry. Where did you come up with that?"

"I once saw something like that in Boston, and I told myself that it would be nice to do the same to pay tribute to Joan and to Henry."

"It was very nice. Thank you Adam, thank you for them."

"Are you okay, Pa? You seem…I don't know…"

"I'm tired, just tired."

"Oh, of course, Pa; come on, give me the reins. Sorry, sometimes I forget that you are still recovering."

"Recovering? No, that's over now. I'm just out of the habit of staying up so late at night, dancing and have fun."

"Say, Pa…sorry if I'm asking you something I shouldn't. Just tell me if I'm being nosy, but you seem to be troubled."

"Troubled? No."

"Pa, would it be possible once time to speak to each other man to man, and not just as father and son? I can see it in your face. Sadness? Regret? Sorry, Pa, but tiredness can't explain that. There's something else, isn't there?"

"I see I can't hide anything from you. Yes, you're right, Adam. I'm in trouble…because of Joan." He sighs. "How did you guess?" He clears his throat. "You are right. It must be written all over my face. I'm so angry at myself."

"Angry? But why?"

"Adam, you don't understand the situation. I've set my sights on a married woman, who could be my daughter. Maybe she's younger than Joe."

"I guess that's unusual. But it's not a crime."

"ADAM..."

"Let me finish. What I want to tell you is that it is completely normal. Joan and you had some special, intimate moments, and they created bonds between you. It's natural that you're having trouble with your feelings...is it paternalism, recognition, friendship, complicity, or love? I don't know, maybe it's a mix of them all."

"Yes, but even if it is all that, it's simple: Joan is married."

"And you, Pa – you're unhappy."

"Well, yes; I admit it, I am unhappy. And I feel stupid because I was the one who made her stifle her feelings for me."

"Oh, I am almost sure that she must be also in the same trouble as you..."

"Are you joking?"

"Oh, no. There is a small corner of her heart that doesn't belong to Henry. I saw him when she danced with you. And I'll bet you that she's asking the same questions as you."

"But Adam, that can't be."

"It can't be? It's not a question of can't or can. It just is. Your feelings are there, and you have to acknowledge them, at least...You can't make any decisions if you aren't seeing clearly."

"I don't see how..."

"You'll figure it out, I know it. One day a solution will come into your mind, very naturally, either to you or to Joan. You'll rethink things, and maybe they'll be different."

"Maybe you're right."

And the buggy continues on its way through the blue night of the Ponderosa. Father and son, joined in quiet peace, move across the plain, protected by the majestic shadow of pines. The ashy moonlight falls on them, the "cahin-cahat" of the strapped wheels makes them bounce on the leather seat.

Adam is a good driver, but roads are so bumpy. He tries to keep his eyes open, but he is about to fall asleep. To tell the truth, he also feels a little tired. Fortunately the ranch is not far. He sees that his father has closed his eyes. Adam doesn't need to speak; he recalls these last few weeks, when his father was lying in bed. He thinks of the word that his father spoke this evening: "Unhappy." And for the first time, Adam really becomes aware of what one his father has endured and endures now.

His father has never complained, but there's a big emptiness in his life and in his heart. And it hurts so much, since love – symbolized by Joan – has come to visit him. Adam realizes the tragedy of the situation. It is out of the question to interfere with Joan and Henry, but he would like to see his father be happy.

And this evening he was happy, while he was dancing with Joan, the gift of his life, his pretty flower. What Joan now is, she has Ben Cartwright to thank. He worked hard to welcome this child who was unwanted by the world she had trusted. He had the patience to accept her resentment, aggression and defiance. He had the courage to admit his faults and to give her freedom, and he gave her the right to choose for herself. He was proud of her progress. And he was willing to say whatever was necessary to push her towards her destiny.

But this evening, he found himself alone, facing a reality which should have been obvious to him before: he had become attached to her more than he wanted to confess. It had nothing to do with reason or logic.

It's twelve o'clock, and Ben and his sons are at the table. There's roast chicken, rice and curry sauce. Hop Sing has just brought the final dish, when the gallop of a horse drew their attention. Who can well come at this hour? It is Adam who gets up first; he rushed to the door and opens it, just in time to gather their visitor in his arms. Vaulted dress, black ankle boots, he recognizes instantly the one who has just collapsed in front of the door of Ponderosa with tears on her face.

Adam turns to his father and his brothers, beseeching them: he needs help; the distress of the young woman is beyond him. Who responds first? Who pushes back his chair and gets up? It is Ben who rouses himself from his chair. It is Ben who takes her in his arms and hugs her against him, it is Ben who gives her protective, broad shoulder. He lets her empty her grief, her pain; he does not ask question; he's waiting, he waits until her shaking ceases, he waits until her tears dry up, he waits until her shouting stops. She cries, she cries, she cries. She weeps rainstorms, she weeps an ocean of tears which saturates Ben's shirt. Her eyes are flooded; she chokes on her own tears, and she coughs. Time stops; silence falls on the room; all at once it is cold, a calamitous cold which beats down on the people and the things in the room.

Joan opened her mouth and pronounces five words. "I have no husband anymore!"

And she cries; tears stream down her face, and Ben imagines that her skin will itself become become a torrent of tears. She is just a stone's throw away from hysterics. Ben knows this, but he doesn't know what to do to calm her. He hopes he will not have to slap her.

"Ben, why? What did I do? Why?"

"Joan, what has happened?"

"It is horrible, Ben, the letter; there, in my pocket. The letter, Ben."

And the torrent of tears resumes. She collapses on the chesterfield and cannot line two words up any more, she is so devastated by grief. Her shoulders tremble, and she finds it difficult to catch her breath.

"Joan, please calm down."

Adam goes to her, disconcerted by the pain of his friend. He does not know what to do; he does not know what to say. Hoss and Joe are dumbfounded by the display, like boats lost in a full storm. Joan, their friend, is falling apart in front of them, a pure crystal soul in a sea of tragedy. Who is to figure this out? What happened? Waiting is worse than anything horrible that they can imagine. Is it Henry? It can be only him. Something dramatic had to have happened. Does it mean that their story is finished? No, it's not possible. They who barely had time to taste the honeyed kisses which only delicate, pure, and true love can give.

Joe closes his eyes and returns in memory all the short moments where he saw Joan and Henry laughing; their story is made of sincere love.

Hoss stays immobile as a granite block, cracked by the violent blow of a sword there. His giant's shoulder is thick, but the violence of the drama which is takes place shakes him inside: his heart pounds, and he feels pain. He feels pain because he has a feeling that the minutes which are going to follow are going to be dreadful. But he wants to know also. It will be better in any case than this waiting.

Ben searches in Joan's jacket, he turns her delicately and while gripping her against him, slips his hand into her pocket and finds what he sought: a sheet of paper, or rather two crinkling, crumpled sheets—as though somebody had let go his anger and had shredded them.

The sheet is now in Ben's hand; he sets his eyes on the first lines:

"Your love does not exist any more."

A sentence, only one, containing seven words, but with such destructive power. And then the second sheet: a inked paper, a certificate stamped in the city of Carlson City.

It takes Ben some time to realize what that means. Joan's grief sowed confusion in his mind, and he hesitates to admit the truth. He manages finally to read the paper. It's a certificate of marriage established in Carlson City. What is blindingly obvious to Ben, instantly, is the name which is registered: HENRY DEXTER. Ben steels his mind and concentrates on what he reads, his jaw hardens, his face gets nervous. A quiet anger growls in him. He had mentally gotten ready to receive an abominable shock, but what he has just discovered exceeds understanding. He averts his eyes. He does not dare to look at Joan, not after what he has just read.

He can't believe it. How could Henry do such a mean thing? What type of man would be so dishonest as to do this?

"Pa, can you explain?"

Ben turn to Joan, and with a short nod of her head, she gives her consent. Ben hands the letter to his son. Adam pales, the instant he sets his eyes on the words. Hoss and Joe have the same reaction.

"My God!"

"JOSEPH, please don't talk like that."

"I'm sorry, Pa, but there are not other words."

Adam clenches his fists in the corner. He has a tight face and his eyes throw flashes of lightning. "Sorry," he says, and quickly gets his hat and his gun. He goes out of the house without a look for his father.

"Adam, ADAM, where are you going? Don't do something you'll regret…"

But Ben's advice gets lost in the slam of the door which drowns it out. Ben does not take his eyes off the door; he does not know what to do. It will perhaps be necessary to go to search for Adam. Then Ben gives a look to Hoss, a look that says a lot, a look which means, "I know what he could do."

"Pa, you think that Adam could..."

"Yes, he could. I know him only too well. A man, on a rampage is capable of anything."

"Not Adam, I don't believe..."

Hoss sticks to his opinion. He doesn't want to think that Adam could have such an angry reaction. But Ben is not persuaded, he knows very well the feelings that energize his eldest son; he read anger in his look, disappointment and aggression. He saw this anger igniting his ordinarily soft look. Adam has been so often betrayed by persons he would have given his friendship and his confidence. And Ben knows what it is like, this rage, this rage at having been cheated, deceived...deceived, yes, as a wife can be. Adam has never given his friendship lightly, but when he gives, he gives always entirely without wanting anything in return. And now, once again, he has just been taken a big slap. Ben is thrown into confusion; he regrets not trying to keep him here, not trying to reason with him, even if it would have been useless. Oh, he knows very well why he did not run behind Adam, no use trying to fool himself. He wants to remain near Joan, he knows she needs him. He must hug her and give her comfort.

"Pa, we can go to the city; maybe we'll find Adam before he..."

"Yes, Hoss. You can always try, although I doubt you'll succeeded in stopping him..."

"We'll do whatever is needed. Come on, Joe."

Ben watches his two sons leave; maybe they will manage to keep Adam from doing something stupidity. He really hopes so.

At the time when the door bangs, Ben feels how Joan is moving against him. She leans her head against his chest. Her eyes are reddened by tears. Then tenderly, he puts his thumb against Joan's cheek and wipes a drop of water which has escaped. She straightens her head and her eyes meet Ben's. Time stops. There is such intensity in the eyes of Ben Cartwright, such humanity, such commiseration, such empathy, that she is flustered. Deeply flustered...she holds his gaze, trying to read inside him: what he is thinking, what he is going to say. But he says nothing, and slowly, very slowly, he tips her head up and approaches her face. She holds her breath. And delicately, he sets down his lips on the lips of the young woman. Suddenly he moves back, as if he has been burnt by the insolence of gesture which he has just made.

"I'm sorry, Joan, I should not have done that."

"No, Ben. Don't be sorry, please."

"Please, let's not be mistaken about what has just taken place. An instant of indiscretion."

"Accept that I call it a gesture of tenderness. Ben, I needed it. Right away, I was grateful to be in your arms. I know that you will never harm me."

"But I harmed you so much already. If you knew how much I regret having pushed you this way, into the arms of this man. Yes, I harmed you, and I continue doing it to you. This kiss, it was madness."

"Madness? No."

"But Joan, you are a married woman."

"MARRIED, you again dare to say it. I am married, yes, to a man who has already said 'I love you' to another woman, another woman who has his name. He promised her fidelity, he undoubtedly made love to her, and she carries perhaps a child of his. And I, what do I have? I have nothing more that a scrap of paper and this taste of incompleteness, which gives me nausea."

"Oh Joan, I am so sorry for what has happened to you."

"You know what, Ben? I saw Adam hurrying out of the ranch house. I can wish only one thing, it is that he falls on my SPOUSE and that he will beat him."

"It is unfortunate what might happen if Hoss and Joe don't find him."

"And then, I think I will congratulate him."

"Dear Joan, I do not encourage my sons to fight. Even for the honour of a lady. But I am delighted to see that anger had taken you out of your depression. I think that your feminine Paiute reflexes have returned. In the meantime, you should go rest a little, and if you wish, we'll be able to go to go for a ride on horseback."

"With pleasure, Ben. Thank you for everything."

"No need to thank me, my dear. It is all that I can do at the moment, and I would like to be able to do more."

"You've done so much for me, Benjamin. You helped me every way that it is possible to help somebody, and you know that a very particular place is reserved for you in my heart."

Oh, these words hurt; Ben remembered, it was exactly what Adam had said to him the day before, in the wagon, making him understand that a piece of Joan's heart did not belong to Henry.

Joan gives a last smile to Ben before disappearing in the guest room, which adjoins the living room. Ben watches her moving away, and stifles a sigh in his chest. He is completely thrown into confusion; his heart has crumbled, and his reason does not command any more. He is torn between opposite feelings. He does not completely understand what has taken place; he does not comprehend the consequences of this event; he has no more common sense. Benjamin Cartwright for the first time, does not know any more.

Meanwhile, Adam gallops frantically in the direction which he chose to take. He goes off towards the ranch of Joan and Henry. He gets down from his horse in front of the gate and takes the time to tie Sport. He heads for the entrance. He raises his fist. He knocks on the door. Nobody comes to open. He is not surprised. He throws a last glance, crosses the path by the barn, certain that he could not find Henry changing the saddles of the horses. He remounts and takes the road which leads to Virginia City. He intends to go take this lout and to punch his fist into his face. Adam knows that one should never allow oneself to be influenced by anger, but he is furious. He still remembers Joan's devastated face before his eyes. It is so vile. Adam will not excuse this, he knows it. Something is broken, irredeemably broken. All respect and affection which he had for Henry has just blown up. And this hurts, oh yes, this hurts. Adam tightens his fists on the reins so extremely that the joints of his hands hurt him.

Adam is in the city; he surveys streets. He walks straight ahead, his look fixed on towards…towards, he knows not what. He does not have a definite destination. His body is rigid, fastened to the soil; he deeply plants his boots in the dust in every step. At this moment he is so hard, he has such a dark look. He is so angry. He is tightened, he thrusts out his chest and advances proudly. And he sees him. His eyes see the elegant silhouette going ahead. Adam speeds his steps up. The other one, Henry in this case, comes up to him. He takes off his hat and speaks warmly, as usual.

"Oh, good morning, Adam; how..."

"Good morning." Adam's tone is brittle, hard. Adam's eyes practically crack Henry. Adam is unaware of his own tense hand. Henry moves back. Adam looks him up and down. Henry opens his eyes wide. Adam does not say a word.

"Adam, will you explain? Why this sudden hostility?"

"I am to explain myself? What a joke! You do not believe?"

"But what are you talking about, Adam?"

"Do not take me for an idiot, Dexter. That is the last thing I advise you to do. Right now I am just a stone's throw from smashing my fist into your face."

"But Adam, you are mad. Stop...tell me what you have to reproach me for."

"A wedding certificate, this does not say to you anything? Barely a few months before marrying Joan?"

"Stop shaking me like that, Adam. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why, Dexter? Why this farce? I want to know."

"I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT. NOW DROP ME."

"Okay, I'll drop you, but you had better explain."

"But Adam, how do you dare to insinuate such things?"

"I insinuate nothing, I say it definintely. I read the certificate which Joan had with her."

"Joan, but how? She is at the Ponderosa?"

Adam thinks, he 's making fun of me…oh, Adam Cartwright, be wary. The lawyer is going to try to confuse you. He can really lie very well. Maybe he do not know about this, but that would be a crazy situation. He is the guilty man, but his face displays such incredulity. He has almost sincere air. No, it is impossible.

Adam shakes his head, dispels the doubts in his mind. No, he cannot let confusion take root. It would be an insult to Joan. This type is a lawyer, he has a talent for rhetoric that Adam studied in school. Adam knows only too well the gifts of such speakers. They can especially persuade. And when they use their talent to deceive, they are unbeatable. Adam knows it, and Adam tells himself that this time the lawyer will not win.

"Mister lawyer, you are unworthy of our friendship. You have lost your place at our home. Joan is a sister to me. You betrayed her. And it is unpardonable. Joan collapsed in my arms, and believe me, I am not ready to forget this. You did not have the right to do this. She loved you. You played with her feelings. You are a complete cad."

"I forbid you."

Henry advances on Adam. Adam wants only this. "Go for it, raise your fist, and I swear I'll extend one to you. You are going to bite the dust, mister lawyer...Go to it, hit me first, so I'll have the pleasure of putting my fist in your face..."

"Adam, if I really did what you say, go to it. Do not stop yourself. It will be good for you."

Adam is dumbfounded, dumbfounded, flabbergasted. He expected anything except this.

"Adam, I promise you that I did nothing to Joan. I do not understand a single word of what you say to me. If I had done what you say, I would not be here trying to understand. Your anger, your contempt, your accusations...I do not know what to say to you..."

Adam says nothing. Adam does not know what to say. Adam is dumb, stupified...he is shaken. Internally and deeply. Now that his anger is spent, he is emptied.

"Adam, allow me to accompany you to the Ponderosa. I must speak to Joan. I must explain to her."

"I do not think that you're welcome at the Ponderosa."

"Adam, you will not make me believe that Cartwrights act in that way. No, I will not believe it. Other ranchers, yes, but not the Cartwrights."

"You seem to have a very high opinion of us, Dexter..."

"And still, you do not have any idea to what extent. I do not know you well, that's true, but I know that you never judge in haste. Isn't that right, Adam?"

"You've made your point, mister lawyer." Adam, you vowed to be attentive. In poker, you would have already lost a nice sum facing him. He has the advantage, you are commanded by your emotions. Adam, it is your weak point...

"Well, I accept that you are coming to the Ponderosa. You will have leisure to explain, if Joan allows it. And I will ask you not to insist if she says to you not."

Adam gets back in the saddle, Henry climbs into his buggy. Both head for the Ponderosa

Joan, Joan, listen to me."

Joan avoids talking with her husband, Joan doesn't want to hear anything, Joan does not want to suffer. Joan's heart is hurting. Joan protects herself...

"Henry, go, Henry, not here, you promised. Henry, go away."

Henry enters the yard as Joan comes back from her walk with Ben. Ben sees him arriving, and throws him a stern glance, so dark. An empty glance without understanding. He does not let Henry approach, Adam either. Henry understands now that the Cartwright are ready to fight to protect Joan. He reads in their eyes a determination which he has never seen before.

"Indeed, as I promised you, Adam, I do not insist."

Henry leaves the Ponderosa. Ben enters the yard, supporting Joan; she's more pale than ever."

Later:

My darling,

Because I cannot talk to you, I choose to go towards you like that. I know that everything accuses me, I know that my name appears on this document. I do not deny. I want to say once more all my feelings, that's all. In the name of the love I have for you, my dear, I make you the promise that I have married nobody except you. I don't know who, but I feel that somebody wants to damage us. And somebody has reached its goal. The reason? I also don't know it. I am heartbroken, not because of my own situation, but because you suffer because of me. I had sworn never to hurt anybody, especially a woman. And I betrayed my promise. I have the ethics and the righteousness of my profession, I took the oath to respect the truth and to defend it always. I continue. But I did not think of having to fight for defending my truth, my honor and my integrity.

Now, my darling, the decision belongs to you. I shall know how to fade out of your life if you ask for it. But Joan, as this letter is written under the seal of sincerity, I admit to you that I shall leave your life with a tearing in my heart. I know at my very core that I am not this ignoble being, this despicable being whom you all see. I cannot plead my cause with you and with your friends, and this is what saddens me. I am not a man to snivel at your knees; I shall leave, and I shall not offend you more.

"Ben, I do not know what to do, what to think. I do not know if I must believe the man of my life. If it was only said by one person, or a rumor, I would not have even paid attention to it, but there is this paper."

"This paper, as you say, is only a paper. Even if there is the name of your husband on it."

"But Ben, why do you say this to me? I saw your eyes, you weren't sympathetic towards Henry. You think he is guilty; isn't he?"

"First of all, I reacted as you, because I saw the certificate."

"And now?"

"Now, I say to you this because I think of Henry..."

"Henry, how?"

"Yes, I think of your husband, of what he said to me. I remember these words: 'I did not believe I could aspire to such happiness. Joan is a marvelous wife; a perfect companion.' This is what I heard from his mouth, and believe me he was sincere when he said it."

"Ben, you confuse my mind..."

Joan paces the room and ends up turning her back to Ben. Ben rests in the same place, sitting in the corner of the office. He looks at Joan.

"No," she says, "I showed you my feelings, and I do not believe I make a mistake. You have the same feeling as me, really?"

He gets up and walks towards her. He lays his hand on her shoulder and slowly makes her turn around.

"Look at me, Joan. Could you say to me, eye to eye, that you continue to condemn your husband?"

"Do not ask me that, Ben."

"I ask it."

Joan raises her shining, misted eyes, and in a choked voice, she answers his question with an anguished sentence. "I do not know any more."

"You need time. Little by little, you will come through this to ask the real questions. Can he lie, the man whom you married? Is it worth the blow to forget it? Is he a criminal?"

At these words, she jumps. "Oh, Ben, please, that's too much."

"Do you believe these things? If really you consider him guilty, my words will be never as strong as the ones you use to address him, right?"

"Ben, you are irritating. Why do you always have such good arguments?"

"And you, why are you defending a boor, a liar..."

"Ben, I forbid you..."

"Thank you, Joan for having stopped me..."

"I ask for your forgiveness."

"I say thank you for having stopped me. That being said, tell me what are the words which made you react?"

"I do not know more."

"Joan, let's go."

"Okay, you win. Yes, I admit it, I did not accept that you treat my husband like a liar."

"It is, however, what he is? Unless you agree finally to take this paper for what it is, a scrap of paper. And that you agree to trust in Henry."

"Benjamin Cartwright, you are impossible...You can lead your small boat. I have never seen somebody as been stubborn."

"And still, you do not have any idea how stubborn I can be."

Ben realizes what he has just said. He closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair.

"Of course I know it, Benjamin. When you decide on something, the whole world is quiet and obeys you.

Wood is burning in the fire-place in silence, in an empty home, a too-big home. Henry finishes his second glass of whisky.. His head is lowered, he surveys the big room, his mind is tortured and he can't help looking at the walls. He wonders what he's doing here, what he's waiting for. He knows that Joan will never come back home. He knows that he has lost her, he knew it the instant she turned away from him to take refuge at the Ponderosa, with those who will never harm her.

He has a taste of incompleteness in his mouth, a feeling of injustice that spins into nausea. Unless it is the whiskey...He has empty stomach, he has eaten nothing this evening. He drank more than was reasonable, more than he usually drinks. He is not used to so much alcohol, that is why the whiskey has made him ill this evening. Sleeping? He should consider it. But frankly, to go to throw himself alone in his bed, he dreads it. He will perhaps end up collapsing dead-drunk in one of the chairs next to the fire, after he has thrown more wood onto the fire. He can at least maintain this fire as long as he stays awake, since he hasn't been able to maintain the fire of his marriage. Or he will die.

He had so many plans, of travelling: Henry wanted to take Joan to Europe, to have her discover Venice and Paris, and then Vienna. He wanted to charm her and to proclaim his love underneath the balcony of Juliet. Yes, he wanted to do all this. But instead of this, he found himself accused, maligned, and deserted, all for something he had not done.

He opens the door and lets a bit of fresh air enter the room. He shudders and leans his back against the door, raises his eyes to the ceiling and inhales slowly. His head spins, he really cannot breathe; he feels sick. He brings his hand to his mouth and he forces himself to breathe. He takes big gulps of air to squelch his queasiness. He comes back to himself, heads for the kitchen, and pours a little water in the bucket. He splashes it in his face and on the nape of his neck. The fresh water is good for him. He watches drops passing between his fingers, he gets the towel which trails over the stool and buries the face in it.

Oh, how this hurts; yes, it hurts to fall like this...He fell from the top, thrown from his pedistle. He fell; he is human, mortal; he is on earth, conquered by words. It is barely believable. But now he begins to understand, it seems that the one who carries the sword, will perish by the sword. And he, he perished by words, the words which he uses every day. Words are his daily tool, his weapon, and what he controls most. This should make sense to him. Somebody tried to harm him, somebody who uses words well. Yes, that's right; somebody cooked up a diabolical plan to destroy his happiness and to damage it deeply. And that somebody, he must at all costs find out who he is.

In her room at the Ponderosa...with untied hair, lying on her back, Joan is alone...Her clear eyes are turned toward sleep...

Loneliness is hers now. It has been hers for a long time; loneliness has been with her for the last year. Before Ben, before her complete transformation at the Ponderosa, before meeting Henry. However, in the tribe, she was never alone but side-by-side and heart-to-heart with her people in the dessrt. Then came the day when she cast eyes on the son of the chief, things changed, and everything was lost. She lost everything: his family, his tribe, his place. She lost everything; they let her go. They would have killed her.

Virginia City, 10:32 a.m. As the stagecoach arrives from San Francisco, an old man drowses on a chair, the grubby hat put down carelessly by his hand. On his sides, a young person is playing an old song on a small harmonica which he drew of the pocket of his shirt.

The stagecoach stops in front of Ned's shop. The door opens. On the step appears a shoe, black, fine, an expensive and refined style...A slender silhouette takes shape. Long dress: full and starched. An ash-pink silk dress with velvet arabesques fastened to the sleeves. A curved net on the brim of a hat, which the passenger carries on her hair fastened back in a chignon. A pleasant, smiling face. Some wrinkles on the corner of eyes. In her ears two golden drops glitter and curl. The hands? They are hidden by black lacy gloves…a fine, silky lace.

In the empty home... The day gets up on the face of Henry... He did not sleep, it was chaos in the head... Near his feet, an empty glass... And a bottle; also empty... He does not remember having drunk it... But he is in the fog and what he made has no kind importance.. It is what this life which topples over in some hours... Who wobbles.. In offer to wobble, he realises that he has very badly assured step... He is immersed; immersed by tiredness, by aftertaste in the mouth.. In short, he is far away of the energetic lawyer that he was .. But not, it's a big mistake.. Deceive... As words ring doubly now.. Deceit, deceiving...

He climbs the floor, opens the door of his room.. For what does he hope? Find Joan there, undoubtedly... He puts down look on the hairdresser in front of whom she was even sitting down a short time ago, looking after her hairstyle. The picture which returns him the ice frightens it... He has a mine of crumpled paper...

The woman has come down of stagecoach; calls for help... She is sure of herself, an alegant way of walking, like a lady of high rank... Distinguished, apparently somebody with famous birth...

- Good morning . could you give me an information,

- You're welcome, Madam. Allow me to introduce me.. Ned Galagher, to serve you, answers the by tipping his hat.

- My name is Eugénie Sue Dexter. And I come to visit my son, Henry. Do you know where I can find him?

- He and his wife live in a ranch at the exit of Virginia City... A buggy can drive you to it.

- Thank you And you can point out to me where is the hotel. I would like to become established some days and , I do not want to disturb my son and his young wife.

- It is everything in your honour, madam...

In Dexters yard

He throw himself arms in cross on the bed and fixes the ceiling... Minute of hollow; of silence; desire to stop everything... Need to close eyes; close eyes on the reality which disappoints... Some hours of calm. And promise to wake up elsewhere, far from doubt, far from slander, far from decline... A place under the sun, that 's what he had, thanks to his hard work and his willing... He climbed up one after another the steps of the society; beginning his career in the offices of the bottom, and even in the depths of the court, to archive files full of dust... Then by dint of pugnacity and of furious energy, after interminable sleepless nights tilted on the books of code, he triumphed over one of the most arduous examinations... And have the right to put down on the wall of the court a sparkling plate: Henry Horace Dexter, specialised lawyer this rang well... He had often dreamt about it; in his man's life; in what he is going to make of the ten fingers and of the brain.. To bring them into service to others had fast appeared to him as a noble stain... Throw itself body and soul into the new functions and fulfil him with fidelity and deference... He remembers in the daytime when he had had to take the oath on the Bible.. It was a trivial commitment, no, it had hired its name; his soul and all that made of him a honest man: his stocks; his integrity, his sense of duty and his respect for other one... This morning, he felt other one; and another very glorious step... All that he loathed, in reality..

The buggy driven by one of the employees of Ned brings the elegant Mrs Dexter on tracks full of dust... to the yard . They left behind them the stores of Virginia City, the office of the sheriff, the Grand Hotel, of big only with the name for a person arrived from San Fransisco... Mrs Dexter opens her sunshade to protect her face of the dust and of the sun..

-when do will we arrive ?

- Madam; One hour to arrive at the yard of your son...

- It is therefore true what it was said to me.. My son live in a yard...

- Yes, the yard and lands belonged to Jonathan Handricks... The heirs agreed to sell to a foreigner because Cartwright vouched...

- Who are Cartwright?

- Cartwright are the richest owners of all territory; madam... They have 600.000 acres of earth. Ponderosa, ido you know?

- No, what is it?

- It is the name of their domain... An expanse of forests not to be finished any more there and pines which stand proudly... It is Ponderosa that...

- And this Cartwright are honest citizens?

Mrs Dexter does not seem to raise the expression of the driver.. However he is shocked..

- Madam; I cannot let you say it..

- I enquire, here is everything. No need to offend you suchlike.. I assume that your reaction is equivalent to an answer.. Then these Cartwright are honest; they won't harm the reputation of my dear Henry...

- Cartwright are loyal, right, honest citizens and very estimated at Virginia City. Oh there are many people who detest them; you think of such wealth makes envious willy-nilly...

- Yes, of course.. And excuse my curiosity; but where from comes to them this wealth? Because they are nouveau riches, really?

- Oh to tell the truth, I do not know... Well Cartwright was marine before coming to become established here with its three sons... He built Ponderosa.

- he must lead big train there I overestimate...

- No, I will not say to this... The parts which he gives with his sons are the most achieving certainly, but I do not think that he is such man... For him count only his sons and his domain... Here is all that I know, madam...

- Thank you my brave man.. And excuse me for being shown to me so curious. But see each other, I did not expect to have to move forward still to join my son.. The itinerary since San Fransisco is long and I am exhausted...

- I understand Madam..Nous will soon have arrived and you will then be able to have a rest...

After about twenty minutes; the buggy reaches in the top of a hill...

-Here is the yard of Dexter.

- I expected something furthermore; let us see, euh, less modest... Something more luxurious...

- Mr Dexter very well understood that imperative by at our place is to have a roof and solid walls.. Security passes before comfort...

The employee of Ned helps the elegant passenger to go down and carries her suitcases.

- Thank you my brave man...

She tightens her a roll of dollars. The employee carries the hand to the hat, before thanks of if eclipser to go back up by car and to turn round...

Stayed alone, Mrs Dexter raises the bottom of her dress, puts down delicately her put on feet by elegant court shoes on the way full of dust and heads for the door... She raises the gloved hand and catches the fine thin cord linked up with the bronze bell suspended above the head... Someone opens the door.

- Joan, it is you... Ah good morning mother; MOTHER?

"Good morning, Henry. Close your mouth, please; you look like a dead fish. What a strange way to welcome your dear mother! What's the meaning of this? You look like a beggar! And besides, you stink of alcohol! My word; but are you drunk?"

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

"Do I have to stand here?"

"Excuse me, mother, come in..."

Henry snatches his mother's bag. He puts it down in the corridor and glances at her.

"Take a chair, Mother..."

"A chair. Ah, yes."

"Mother, why didn't you send a telegram? I would have met you in town."

"A telegram? What? My son wants a telegram! Do you require a warning of my visits?"

"Mother, I didn't mean anything...It's just that I'm a bit surprised..."

"Henry, I can't believe it. How can you live like this? I gave you a good education, and you're living like a common peasant, and you're drinking...Is this how you thank me for what I've done for you?"

"Oh, Mother, you're not going to begin again. Please."

"I do not deserve this, Henry."

"Oh, no, Mother, don't cry. I told you I was sorry."

"Well, you are a nice boy…Would you get me some water, my son? These dusty, dry roads gave me such a thirst."

"But of course, Mother."

Henry does what he has to do. He gives his mother a glass of fresh water, which he gets from the pump. She's the last person he wanted to see. It's Joan he expected to find at his door.

He needs understanding and comfort, and for sure it's not his MOTHER who's going to bring them to him. She's just given him another demonstration of her "comfort." Always criticism and selfishness.

"Your delightful wife isn't at home?"

Just the very words that will hurt. That's so cruel.

"No? Has she, hmm, gone away?"

How to explain? He has admitted his error to himself, but in front of his mother, he doesn't dare.

"Mother, may I show you to your room?"

"You want to get rid of me, that's right. Do I bore you?"

"Mother, I didn't say that; you're always trying to twist my words. It's irritating."

"Don't raise your voice to me, young man…"

"Forgive me, Mother, but…"

"But what? Well, I am going to follow you. But I do not like the way you treat me."

They walk down the hall in heavy, heavy silence. Mrs. Dexter walks purposefully up the narrow staircase, taking care not to tread on the hem of her dress. She sets her black court shoes deliberately on the carpet, as if she is stomping an ant with every step. She sighs, but does not say a single word. Henry holds in his right hand her square, padded suitcase, and in his left hand a travel bag in a flowered fabric. Mrs. Dexter carries on her arm a small silk purse, matched to her outfit.

He invites her to follow him into the corridor which leads to the bedrooms.

"Here is your room, Mother."

Henry ushers her into the guest room. It is the biggest room; broad curtains decorated with flowers fall to the floor. In the middle is the bed: big, white, with bars and gold knobs. To the left, by the entrance, a chest of drawers, including five drawers locked by small keys in sparkling brass. Two tables, one to the right and one to the left, covered with lace doilies. Two vases with pink and red flowers breathe life into the too-white room. Next to the pinks and reds, some white daisies. Two brass lamps are fixed to the wall. Each globe, a bit tainted with soot, covers a blackened wick. Three thick pillows and a white woolen bedspread constitute the bed linen. At the foot of the bed, an oval table with a splendid bunch of roses.

"It is pretty, certainly. I suppose that it is what I should say. To tell the truth, I did not expect to find anything this, um, refined here. I am extremely surprised."

"Joanie is very proud of this room. She wants every person who stays here to feel comfortable."

That night...

Is there any sign of compassion behind those wrinkled eyes? An old lady steeped in dignity and adequacy. She treasures her powers of deduction, and her pride is what keeps her alive. Does she love anyone? She hides behind this hardness, coldness, brittle strictness…permanent dissatisfaction.

Henry does not know. He doesn't feel like thinking. He's just gone back down, after letting the door close behind his mother. A lump forms in his throat. He has lost the only hand that he wished to keep, he's lost the right to go after her. Mother, you must understand that I don't have the heart to speak with you this evening. And if you don't understand, I want nothing from you. Besides, I've long stopped waiting for a loving gesture from you. I hear your litany of reproaches, but I've closed my heart.

Henry waits, he waits for his wife to return home. But will she be able to make her way back to the one who betrayed her? He does not believe it. That's just how it is.

A second night without her, a second night of crushing defeat, a second night of nagging doubt...Oh yes, he has eaten with Mother. What a dinner! He would have liked to disappear, but no, he had to suffer the attentions of Mum, as they ate in the big hotel. And yes, Mother insisted on going back to Virginia City to dinner. What horror. Henry had to do well, to smile for Mother, not to spoil her meal; but he hated every second. Mother wanted to eat a small oven baked dish of game with potatoes duchess, as well as a raspberry ice. Some cream biscuits, sweet and crispy, all this with a light champagne. But Henry, tasting only bitterness in everything, savored nothing. Everything reeked of it, on all sides. His mother had come, bringing bitterness even into this tasty kitchen.

He has to get out of this downward spiral; Joan has to listen to him. He has to find who sent that poisonous letter, who falsified an official document. Who sowed doubt? Who poisoned their love? Who cooked up such a plot? He must know! But Joan doesn't want to hear any more about him. He sees her in every room of the home, in every mirror, in every delicate appointment. In Joan's presence, even Mother appears to waver in her usual nastiness. Joan can make of his home a shimmering and warm haven...

He doesn't want to drown his sorrows in drink anymore; this accomplishes nothing. He needs all his faculties to think serenely, efficiently. He must speak to Joan…Joan, his Joan, the one he loves. "Joanie" is the name he said to his mother…but "Joan," that name belongs to him, his rare jewel, the wild child she can be sometimes. He sees her again on horseback; never sidesaddle like a horsewoman, certainly not. She rides like a man, like a Cartwright...with elegance and more.

He decides to gallop to the Ponderosa. Just as he is leaving his home, an imperious dry voice freezes him in place.

"Henry, what are you doing?"

"Mother, I am not a child; I'm long past the age to ask you for permission to go out. And I am in my own home."

"Oh, yes, I understand well. But I forbid you..."

"I beg your pardon? You forbid me?" Henry stifles a nasty laugh. What else could possibly happen? Nothing else is missing, not after his mother has forbidden him to do something in his own home.

"Your father would be ashamed of you if he heard you now."

"Why would he be ashamed? Because I run to search for my wife and to try to wash away the dishonor of this terrible mistake? Let me go, then. Father could not be ashamed of me."

Henry leaves without a backwards look for his mother

Nobody knows it, but on the track which leads to Ponderosa; there is a small oratory... A small stele hidden behind a hill.. Henry had discovered her while he had having a walk with Joan... A small monument out of the track; little away from any vegetation or from yard lived by the neighbours of Cartwright... Henry decides to stop there oh not for a long time; just the time of a breath, of a stopover.. A rest for its setting...

He goes down from his horse, and goes on on foot, by having taking care of tying the reindeers of his horse to a branch... He moves aside the high grasses and goes up to some stone...

He wants to sit down close to the stone.. He knows that he would be madness to venture at the place of Cartwright now.. He is conscious that he escaped the home, the damaging chattering of his mother gives him nausea... She does not give up spitting her venom out...

The attack is dazzling... It has a feeling that something hits on the boot.. He looks horrified at the rattlesnake hung at the end of his boot... At this moment, he does not know if the animal managed to pierce the thick leather of the boot... But his thought is elsewhere.. What to do? To move? To shake his foot? To try to kill the animal? He has no choice.. Slowly he takes out his gun and without hesitating, pulls. On him, on the animal, on his foot... Successful cardboard, given that the prey was realy near... He has just escaped life, but a violent pain irradiates its foot... Is it bite or bullet? He wishes that it is only the bullet; and not bite.. Of any ways, he will know it very enough early... The rattlesnake leaves generally not enough chance to his victim..

He decides to go again on horse and to join Ponderosa. If really he was bitten, he will not reach living the ranch. Some metres which separate him from his horse seem to him unreachable; he so much feels pain.. He creeps and bites his fist when pain is too strong...

He heaves himself hardly on his horse and manages to make him put in gallop... The valid leg is in the stirrup while other one hangs poorly along the body of the horse...

Is he going to reach up to the ranch?

Meanwhile in Ponderosa...

Ben closed shutters and drew curtains.. The same gestures 100 times repeated every day, warm routine... Night noise; the life which dozes off... Put in rest, place in dreams... The loneliness for him begins... Joan went up to lie down. The boys are in their room; Adam with a book; very indeed.. Loneliness for Ben, then yes; silence; the too large bed; too big, too cold. Hostile sheets, without soul... Pictures bump into each other in the head. He is alone, on the back, hands crossed behind his head... He fixes the ceiling; eyes lost in space... He lets his mind wander... He sees again a park, a street laid with cobblestones, fiacres and elegant walkers... He walked towards this park, of a decided step.. Suddenly, a horse, a shouting, of agitation. What is this lady who taken up in horsewoman had obstructed her passage? He did not know it but he had just crossed his future wife.. .. Oh yes, that happy memories... An adventure so far...

A flash, another flash of lightning... A pale light who would have as name «does not leave to you».. Three days, days of slow decline after violent fall... The soft face which faded, the complexion which froze under the powerless look of the men of the house... She who says «my darling, I am tired» yes, that's right, mom was tired...

Then, that's true, the most serious wounds are those what are not seen? No blood, no break, but a traumatism buried which condemns you, more surely than a court.. Yes that's right: it was serious this fall... She got up again; but to sink better.. He also is hurt, hurt indoors also? A punch? An amputated member? Cut breath? He could not say... More memory of these calamitous days when everything toppled over... Not enough words; a doctor who makes sign of the head, a sign of the hand which condemns, a hand which settles on its shoulder? That's right? Does he remember well? Is it just like that that this took place? And he who falls at the foot of the bed, which takes last time this still a little hot hand... This hand which he embraces, that he grips against the face What does he believe? What he has power to keep life? Does he feel pain? No, he is empty... Space of tears; space of reaction, space of anger.. What, to look really there; he is the horse; yes, that's right... And then he thinks; he thinks of his sons, the smallest, the youngest child... How to say «mom is dead»? Baby Joe who so much loves the horses, what did he have understood ? How to say him; mom fell from the horse.. Baby Joe does not want to think that it is possible to be badly made by falling from horse; it is what he strives to say him...

Ben sigh in his bed, he turns his head to the night table and gets ready to blow on the lamp when a noise draws its attention... He tightens the ear, taught to watch and to show himself vigilent.

The gallop of a horse, this time more possible doubt; somebody is in front of the ranch... Ben is on his guards: eyes opened wide.. Then; friend or enemy? How to know... He rushes at the bottom of the bed, catches his gun in flight and rushes out of the room.. Naturally, he is not the only one to have heard; the inhabitants of this home are well accustomed to this type of events; they are fine bloodhounds and their ear is so fine, as the murmur of the wind in leaves takes them out from sleep.. Particular Don? No, simply the instinct of survival... And it is not a vain word in these lands.. Ponderosa is certainly a haven of peace but the outlawed are everywhere; and this large expanse of green earth is the object of a lot of desires... Cartwright knows it.

- pa, what happens?

Ben runs down the steps, Adam and Joe as well as Hoss are behind him... Hoss ends up jumping into the trousers, the nightgown goes out on a side... He has one of these odd appearances.. Adam is bare torso, but with the trousers.. As for Joe; he has one.. towel around size...

- Well what, look at me not just like that, I had a bath...

- Hey not so very much, Joan sleeps...

- Forgiveness pa...

- And your gun?

- In my room.. I preferred getting a towel in flight before thinking of the gun.. You would not nevertheless like that I go out very bare with the gun in the hand?

- Of what to scare Jessie James in person...

- ahahah, very funny...

- stop teasing, boys, we go out now...

Three Cartwright rushes on the flight of steps.

- HENRY...

Ben runs up the first, in this night flooded by a full splendid moon, he has no trouble to recognize the horseman, who is hauled down on the horse...

- Hoss, Adam, come to help me...

Every three take down the man of his setting...

- He is...?

- I don't know , Hoss; let us lengthen it on the soil...

Delicately, they put down Henry down.

- pa, look at his foot.. He is in blood...

Adam catches the boot and pulls..

AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...

- Happy to see you alive, my friend...

- Adam, Ben, I am so happy to see you.. So I am alive.. Thank God!..

- Henry, what happened to you?

- I was bitten by a rattlesnake. More exactly, he bit my boot and remained there hanging... I did not know if he had crossed the leather, then I took my gun and I shot..

- You have shooted on yourself ?

Adam looks at him with an odd air, mixture of incredulity and of admiration.. He would not have believed the untruthful lawyer would be able to do such a gesture...

- If I am there, it is because the snake broke teeth on the leather of my boot.. I would never regret my 25 dollars.. the boots have saved my life...

- 25 Dollars for a pair of boots; yes I understand why this remained it in the middle of the gullet of the rattlesnake...

-Hoss; it is not the instant to try to be witty; growl Ben« and where did you go just like that?»

- I had left for a walk.

- in the middle of the night?

- Yes, I needed to be alone...

-but you are alone at home, he seems to me... Euh excuse me.*»

Adam corrects himself , Ben has given him a stern look of reproach.

- You are right Adam... It is fair that... Finally, token, my mother has arrived by stagecoach today and let us say that, she and me, have a little trouble to be announced.. Then with what arrives at me, I don't want to be patient and understanding...

- euh yes, we understand; of course... In the meantime it is going to be necessary to treat on this foot.. Thank God! the snake spared you; but gangrene will not miss you if you hesitate to disinfect this foot.. Hop Sing always leaves a little of its miracle decoction... Go come; lean on me...

Ben grab Henry and raise him nimbly, while Adam slips his shoulder downstairs of the arm to support him and to take it indoors

"Joe, put some clothes on. Look, you're dripping all over the floor."

"Yes, Pa." Then he mutters, "I'm fed up with being told what to do. It isn't my fault when people are coming and going as they like. This is not a hotel!" Joe mumbles all of this into his beard…which of course, is only a figure of speech: he hasn't got much to offer when it comes to hair on his face.

Adam and Ben carry the injured man and seat him on the chesterfield. Hoss goes into the kitchen and comes back with a cast iron bowl filled with a brown liquid. "Dip your foot in here," he says. Henry complies, having laboriously removed his boot and sock. The blood spreads in the bowl, mingling with the dark water which is already there.

"What's that?" Henry asks.

"Some sort of glandular extract, plus peppercorns, rosemary, comfrey, black alder, and daisy root for the final ingredient. Specialty of Hop Sing."

"Good heavens! It doesn't sound very appetizing."

Joe laughs. "Nobody asked you to drink it," he says.

Adam asks Joe dryly, "Don't you think you should be upstairs getting dressed?"

"I'll get there. I don't need three hours to jump into clean trousers."

Ben reminds him, "Don't forget to put on a shirt."

"Oh, Pa, you never stop!"

"Joseph, don't raise your voice to me. Don't forget who you're speaking to. Go put on a shirt right now before I get angry," answers Ben with a tone that allows no backtalk.

"Okay, okay, I'm going." Joe disappears up the stairs, muttering, "I'm fed up with being treated like a kid...fed up to here…"

Joe heads for his room with the towel still wrapped around his waist. His hair is soaked, and drops of water are running down his chest. "Even Hop Sing is always telling me off. I've got an earful."

He doesn't see Joan's door opening. It's lucky that he doesn't run into her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Joan. Did we wake you? Sorry…"

"Don't apologize. Just tell me what's happening."

"Well, uh…" Joe pretends to think. Awkwardly, he says, "That is…there is…"

"Joe, tell me what's going on. I want to know."

"Your husband is in the living room. He's inju—"

Joan turns on her heel, her misty dressing gown flying, and the door bangs. It reopens forty seconds later. Joan, without a look for Joe, heads for the staircase and runs down. Joe goes on towards his room to put on his clothes, or his father will lecture him again. Even in the middle of the night, Ben Cartwright has enough energy to scold.

In the living room...

Ben, Hoss, and Adam stand around Henry, who is looking at his foot in the bowl. No one says a word. Adam is full of pent-up energy; he prefers keeping his mouth closed. Ben is torn between two emotions: on the one hand, the feelings he has for Joan; and on other one, the empathy he feels for Henry. And in the middle, this incredible situation where sincerity mingles with deceit and dishonesty...

Into this sweltering silence, Joan comes face to face with her husband, giving him a loving look through moist eyes. But in a split second, she takes out from her broad sleeve a small knife and charges Henry.

"You are a dog!"

She swings her arm down towards Henry. Dumbfounded, he ducks to avoid the blow. His foot overturns the bowl, and it spills its contents over Ben's feet and the bottom of his trousers. Adam, seeing Joan attacking her own husband, throws himself on her and grabs her arm. He tries to disarm her.

"Joan, stop!" Adam commands. "Drop the knife."

But Joan doesn't intend to loosen her grip so easily. Adam vaguely realizes that Joan isn't Mrs. Dexter at this moment, but an ex-Paiute. And this changes everything. She can fight, and in this kind of rage, she's capable of the worst. She fights as if she has nothing to lose, as if she's already thrown her wedding ring into the fire.

"Ouch!" He looks at his arm; the skin is pierced, and blood appears. He is flabbergasted, staggered that sweet Joan could do this. Still, he does not quit. He grips the young woman's arm; he's certain he could break her arm. He does not want to, of course, but he must succeed in making her lose her grip. He feels her hand loosen; the knife falls. Adam kicks it away, and Hoss bends down and picks it up.

"Adam, be careful!" shouts Henry.

Even disarmed, Joan does not quit. She turns her head and plants her teeth in Adam's hand.

"Ouch!" But he holds back the other words which come to his mouth. He puts his good hand on the wound. The toothmarks are already showing. Joan goes towards the fireplace, takes a piece of wood, and throws it at Henry's head. He falls against the cushion, and the wood lands on Ben's desk, overturning the inkwell. She already has another stick in her hand, ready to throw it at her husband again. But one thing prevents her from it. Ben stands in front of her, and he holds her arm in an iron grip.

"Joan, that's enough. Put this down." His tone is stern, but Joan does not seem ready to stop so easily. "Joan, stop this. You hear me?"

No response from the young woman. A flame in her eyes, a black look, a determined look. A lot of water has run under the bridge; she is no more the young person that he knew. She has never been afraid to look him in the eye, and she is not going to begin this evening.

"No, Ben. I only stunned him, the scabby dog."

"Joan, for the last time, I'm telling you to put it down. One. Two."

Hoss and Adam hold their breath; poor Henry is collapsed on the chesterfield. He's had far too many shocks; the wound in his foot throbs frightfully. Even though Joan's knife and stick haven't killed him, he feels as though he's been mortally wounded.

"Now that's enough." Ben continues to hold Joan's wrist and forces her to her knees. He tears the stick from her other hand, then roughly pushes her into a chair. "You're going to calm down." Joan tries to get up, but Ben is stronger. "No Joan. You're not moving out of that chair, not as long as you're in this state. And I recommend you stay quiet. You know what I'm capable of doing."

That last sentence is stronger than Joan's stubbornness.

"All right, Ben. But I can't stand to look at this jackal's face. Get him out, or I'll tear his eyes out of his head." She starts to stand.

"JOAN!"

She sits down again.

"Hoss, take Henry outside. I'll take care of Joan. Adam, how is your arm?"

"It's okay, Pa."

"Go upstairs; Joe's in his room. He'll clean your arm and dress it."

Hoss lifts Henry and carries him outside and down the steps. Poor Henry! He darts a last look towards Joan, but the flash of rage he sees there hurts him, and he does not insist on speaking to her

-Listen to me to Joan, you need to calm down. You have to face something very hard. I understand what you feel, at least I'm trying. I can't fault you for being angry; you have the right."

Joan's anger is transformed into grief. She is touched by Ben's compassion. She feels herself becoming small next to him, as she chooses to trust. No more thinking, no more carrying the burden, just letting herself go. She knows she's safe in the arms of this calm, good man, this strong and considerate man. He's so protective, and there is so much kindness in eyes. It's so easy now to let go. No more trying to hold herself together, no more trying to be strong, no more having to make decisions. Just to say yes and listen.

Ben and his sons are talking.

"Okay, boys, we have to find a solution for night. I must say I'm impatient to go to bed and get some sleep. Now, Henry's going to sleep in the room near the kitchen. I'll sleep there, too. I'll take a blanket, and I'll spend the night with him, in case his fever runs high. Joan is in her room in bed; Hop Sing gave her one of his famous herbal teas, and she's already asleep."

Ben is in Henry's room in the chair, with a blanket over him.

Day after day, night after night: the same dreams, the same desires, and this pain which pierces the soul. The pain of his conscience, his scruples, his regrets; the bite of these paradoxical feelings that he can't control. He is a man of principle, the man who built the Ponderosa on a firm foundation. A man of fidelity, honesty, and uprightness, a respected man. And yet, this very man has suddenly started to doubt himself. All this accomplishment…for what?

The need to be with somebody, not to live alone any more, suddenly overwhelms him. He does not want to betray his principles, but how can he ignore this feeling? How to deny what he feels for her? How to hush this voice which shouts inside him with so much vehemence? How to erase the picture of her face? She needs him, and he knows it. And even if he doesn't want to admit it, he needs her.

So far, he's managed to stand firm on his principles, even though he has often felt he's losing ground. So many times he's wanted to speak to her about this, even when he saw the love growing Henry and her. He has never said a word…but now he thinks there might be a time to speak. How can he ignore the signs? Does he see a sign of life? A sign of destiny? One love collapses and other one awakens? Is life going on? Could a pretty flower be opening on the ruins of a love-story battlefield?

Henry fidgets in his sleep. First, a moan, deep, then an incomprehensible mumbling. A word, two words…words…Joannnn...

Ben, between two stages of sleep, throws off the cover that's him and goes to the bed of the man who's talking in his sleep. Ben lays his hand on Henry's forehead. Good, there's no fever. However, Henry's confusion is apparent. The shock of the snakebite, surely. Fear of that slithering, gliding harbinger of death.

"Henry, Henry."

Ben shakes him. But sleep returns, and Henry sinks back into its depths. He makes not further sound, no more sudden movements. But Ben can't go back to sleep. And he doesn't even want to. Too much weight on his shoulders, too much tensions. And Joan, still in his mind's eye. He sees her, sleeping or brightly awake, always the same silhouette taking shape and dancing. There she is, in the moonlit mirror, lit from the white light that pierces the small room's shutters from below. There she is, blurred, indistinct, but so real. There she is, winged like a desirable angel.

Oh, he needs her; yes, it's true. Confessing it is no longer only an option, it's necessary. The truth hurts, but he must truly say that this bond between him and Joan is firmly anchored in his heart. He is sure he cannot undo it. A slate can be washed clean, but not a heart marked branded with such feelings.

When your name is Benjamin Cartwright, are you allowed to slip towards this desperate, condemned place of disgrace and disapproval? How to resolve the conflict between reason and feeling? A duel with death, but how to outdraw oneself? Benjamin Cartwright is a fine marksman, but is he the quickest?

What will he choose? Conventions, order? Anarchy? Happiness? If he chooses his own happiness, can he withstand the town's scornful looks? Some people would fall all over each other to throw malicious gossip and rumors in his direction. He doesn't know what to do. To run away, far away? How to end this conflict? Endless dilemma without a solution...

The sun rises on a new day, a day in which everyone on the Ponderosa strives to avoid one another. Hoss, Adam, and Joe eat alone at the table. Ben has breakfast before anyone else, and then he brings a tray to Henry who emerges slowly from sleep. Joan does not have breakfast; she is not hungry. In the middle of this unacknowledged chaos, Hop Sing makes sure that everybody eats. The small fellow, in his old black shoes as always, makes no noise on the floor. He trots back and forth from kitchen to dining room. Hop Sing adjusts to so much, but his patience has limits.

"Hop Sing is going to go back to China. This is impossible. Hop Sing wants no more of this. Too much outsiders in the home, and everybody looking at the wall. Everybody has bad mood, everybody angry..." And the little man turns on his heel, still grumbling.

"Jī duō bù xià dàn."

"What did he say, Adam?" Joe asks.

"You think I understand Mandarin? I don't know what he said."

"Hop Sing not deaf! I say, 'When hens are too numerous, they no more lay.' Home filled with people, but too many hands not make much."

Adam asks, "Do you want us to go then, and get some work done?"

Hoss nods. "That's a good idea; Adam. It'll be better for us to get out of here. Hop Sing can just get on somebody else's nerves."

At this moment, Ben comes out of the room where Henry is sleeping. "Wait , boys. Someone needs to take Henry back to his ranch. He feels better and wants to go home. Adam, go saddle his horse."

"Okay, Pa."

"Joe, you go with Henry."

"Yes, sir."

"Pa," says Hoss, "is there something I can do?"

"Yes, Hoss. Go with Hank, he has to round up the stock. You two should be enough to bring back those animals."

"Okay, Pa; I'll go with him."

Hoss grabs his gunbelt, put on his hat, and goes out towards the barn. The air is cool, but the day promises to be hot. Hoss fills two canteens and saddles his horse. He mounts and kicks Chubb into a gallop towards the meadows owned by the Ponderosa. The ride is good for him; he feels his mind getting lighter. There's been too much tension in the ranch house these past several hours, and he welcomes the job that takes him away from all that.

Hoss loves the wide spaces of the meadows. He even loves the dust kicked up by the running stock, 1500 mindless, powerful animals. Oh, yes; powerful animals. Among them is a beautiful bull. Hank will have to negotiate a fair price for him. Hoss knew that Pa had insisted on getting a lot of money for that bull. Soon Hoss will know if their foreman has concluded the transaction

*************Meanwhile, on the road some miles far away from Ponderosa...

Henry and Joe arrive near the yard, in the cool morning under Nevada sky. There is nobody else on the road, of course. There's no noise, just two birds flying in the immense blue-grey, stony, and deserted plain. There's not even the breath of a wind, and always the dust which is raised by the hooves of the horses.

Henry and Joe travel the last few feet which separate them from the imposing wooden structure. They dismount, putting both feet on ground; Henry winces when his leg brushes the saddle. Oh, it hurts.

"Joe, I have a bad feeling about this. Look, the door is open."

Instantly on the offensive, Joe draws. "I'll go to the side."

Henry is not armed. He hobbles, but manages to take shelter near the woodshed on the other side of the yard.

Joe attracts every possible attention. He fires a gunshot, wanting to know if there is somebody inside. His shooting breaks the windowpane, and he waits. There's no response. He makes a sign for Henry to go ahead.

Henry comes out of his hiding-place and heads for his home. He walks slowly up the wooden walk, which cracks under his boots, and he pushes the lime-painted door.

"Mother," he calls. No answer. A real concern overtakes him now. He explores every room: the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, everything is impeccably arranged. His room also, and the room which follows, the one he intended to become the nursery...nothing has been moved. It is very strange. But his mother does not answer. Something has happened. He comes out of his room. In his chest, his heart pounds beyond anything it has ever done before. The only room he has not explored is his mother's. He closes his eyes, trying to dispel the dark pictures which are building up there. Loudly, very loudly, he knocks, still hoping that the hard and sharp voice of his mother will answer. No, the hope is in vain; there is only silence. Henry pushes down the brass door handle beside the porcelain vase full of flowers. Holding his breath, he moves his foot forward and pushes the door. The room is plunged into semi-darkness; one of the shutters is closed, other almost closed, as if whoever was shutting it was interrupted in mid-movement. The bed is still made. The lamp on the night table has gone out, its oil exhausted, its wick small and blackened.

At the Ponderosa…

Joan is in her room, sitting in front of her dressing mirror. Her black hair is a waterfall on her back and shoulders. Her brush comes and goes on the wave-like tide. It's a mechanical gesture, made while her mind wanders beyond the room. It moves toward its own memories, before trouble, before suffering. Her eyes are lost in the mirror's poor reflection of her face, a face marred by tears and rage. A face with drawn features, made tired by a night without rest, a night of tears. A night without consolation, a night of loneliness. Lost, lost still, once again. The ring on the finger, the voice of the heart, snatches of certainty surrounded by fuzziness. Treason, abandonment, a shiver frozen in the bottom of the stomach. A knot in the chest.

In the barn…

Ben uses the rake on the same place; fifty times that he rakes over the same corner. To pick up what? Wisps of straw on the ground, scattered seeds that the chickens will come to peck at. He feels a tension in the nape of his neck, a feeling of tiredness that comes from a long night dozing in the chair. A tension of the muscles, which echoes the tension which reigns in his mind. A tension which he cannot appease; a tension of which he feels prisoner. He's avoiding something…his heart, no doubt. His feelings, indeed. A part of his heart wants to smile and to hope. But to admit this would be in opposition to his very nature, as a man with principles. He throws the rake in a gesture of frustration. He picks up a harness, wanting to hang it on a nail, but here is where it falls. Ben picks it up and throws it against the wall. What is the matter? He goes out of the barn and walks into the yard, throws a look upward, towards the second floor of the house. What does he hope to see there? That she would be opening her window to the peace of the morning, now that the home is empty of its residents? Yes, the window opens. Joan supports her arms on the edge of the frame. She did not see who is outside. At the moment she savors the sun's rays on the cool breeze. Her face is wiped clean, and he imagines she smells nice, like soap. She closes her eyes and lets her lips relax in a small smile. Then she sees him and gives him a small wave of her hand.

He enjoys her smile, enjoys the way she opens her hands, letting the tension leave her fingers as she shows him her palm. The gesture transforms his thoughts, tearing through the veil of torments, but only for a short instant. Because nothing has changed; his confusion is the same, and nothing is solved.

"Good morning, Ben."

"Oh, good morning, Joan."

She is already there, has already come down. Her hair is loose on her shoulders, and a shawl covers her dress. "I'm happy to see you," she says.

"I'm glad to see you, too. Did you succeed in sleeping?"

"No, I did not. Too much anger, too much...I don't know what."

"You're still angry, aren't you? I don't remember ever having seen such rage in anybody."

"You are certain of that, Benjamin?" She smiles mischievously, just a little.

"I don't believe I've seen even you so angry, even when Adam and I brought you back to Ponderosa."

"I remember, Benjamin. I tried to bite you."

"I think you succeeded. Your teeth marks were on my skin."

"Come on, I did not cut through that thick shirt."

"But yes..."

"You go too far."

"In no way…"

The two of them laugh at the memory, although it's bittersweet.

They give each other their hands. Why? Have they the right to do this? They laugh self-consciously, trying to make fun of it a bit. Ben does not understand what is taking place. Joan has somehow managed to hold his hand, and he does not feel like withdrawing the calloused hand which she holds between her delicate fingers.

Their eyes meet, their smiles are in harmony, they feel it, it is stronger than they who would control it. She nestles into him, lays her head against his shirt, and rubs her hair against the base of his neck where his shirt is opened. He places his hand on her hair and pushes her away slowly.

"Joan, we shouldn't."

But he does not continue his sentence. He puts his finger under the young woman's chin and raises it, before placing his lips on the mouth of the one who awaits only this. She closes her eyes and gives herself up to his kiss. They are definitely alone in the world.

************At the Dexters'…

Henry sees a black form on the floor; he moves ahead, his heart beating in his chest, terrified by what he sees. He freezes, raising a hand to his mouth, but not a sound comes out. His mother is on the floor, yes. There is no doubt. He bends down, put a the hand on her neck, searching for a heartbeat. Nothing. He holds her hand, then lets it falls back onto her lifeless body. He lifts her delicately. She is sticky, there is some blood over...his mother has a nasty wound behind the head. It's finished, and there is nothing more to do. He does not know what to do. To leave? To stay? To lift his mother and to deposit her on the bed? He does not know. He sits down on the bed and lowers his head between his hands. His legs are shivering, an uncontrollable shaking. His heart feels like it's at the edge of lips, and he puts both hands over his mouth. He feels sick; he has to go to wash his hands, to scrub away this blood between his fingers, under his nails...

He gets up again; seized with horror, with dread. Putting his hands on his forehead, he turns around, stumbles away from the bed, and goes out of the room. He hangs on to the door frame; oh, he is so unsteady, so short of breath! He crosses the corridor and takes the stairs down. He falls down the stairs, gets up again, and runs far away from the horror.

"Hey, Henry, what's..."

Henry slams into Joe, his eyes elsewhere and his mind fogged. Henry doesn't even see the young Cartwright as he knocks him over, putting all his strength and speed into his escape.

"Henry! What's happened?"

Henry doesn't answer. He turns around and motions towards the stairs, towards the floor. He tightens his right hand, his hand blotted with blood.

"Henry, your hand…"

Henry says nothing, he just slides down the wall, prostrate. Joe, gun in hand, rushes up the stairs. The opened door draws his attention. Joe slips into the corridor, arrives at the door that's only partly ajar, stops, and takes a deep breath. He hesitates to enter, wondering what he is going to find.

He sees...

"Henry, let's go find the sheriff."

Henry answers mechanically; his brain works slowly. His lawyer's instincts seem to be lost. He know what will happen: procedures, investigations into the circumstances. But it's so far away from his mind. With a violent effort he tries to focus and escape from his depression. Where to find the energy that action requires? How to move when you have just been felled by such a horror? He has the blood of his own mother on him, literally on his hands. How to recover from that?

How does he ride the horse? How does he manage to ride to Virginia City? He doesn't know. When he enters Roy Coffee's office with Joe at his side, he finds a semblance of peace…but a semblance only, because he is about to collapse. He feels sick. Nausea rises continuously to his lips in a wave of horror which threatens to immerse him.

"Oh, good morning, Joe," says Roy. "Mr. Dexter, what brings you into the city?"

Joe interrupts the salutations. In short, dry sentences, he tells Roy to follow them. "We'll explain it to you on the way," Joe says.

At the Ponderosa…

Joan is in the water, taking a bath. She has dressed her hair in a vague chignon, with some pins done here and there in the mass of her brown locks. She's closed her eyes, and she moves her legs slowly in the sparkling water and savours the caress of the hot water. She touches the bubbles which brush her shoulder. Thoughts of him haunt her, the taste of his lips. A kiss with an unusual taste, the taste of the forbidden. There was silence in the instant they were together, a short but incredibly intense instant. A fire that was quickly consumed, quickly used, instantaneously spent…a precious period of time. A spark that flew nowhere, an incendiary spark, a thief of the heart and a thief of reason. Who had this idea of kissing? Both wanted it, didn't they? So it was by mutual consent, by very real agreement of both parties present. Yet he was the one who left, he was the one who moved his mouth away, as if he'd been burnt once again, burnt, torn between his heart and his principles...

Now she comes out of the bath, wrapping herself in a towel. Water trickles down along her legs and splashes on the floor as a tear she is unable to keep inside. The pain of what she has lost, the pain of what it is not possible to have! Grief which passes as the time which... which what? Time which passes but does not end, time which condemns her to feeling this way?

At the Dexters'…

Silence around the body of the victim. Shocked looks, the awkwardness of the men around the body of this poor woman. Henry, plunged into a deep despair, watches Roy lifting the body and putting it down on the bed. Bloodstains on the floor; Henry diverts his eyes. Nothing, nobody knows anything about what happened here. A cold horror pierces Henry. Stock-still, yes, he stands stock-still, contemplating the blood dried on the floor and the cold body of his mother. Finally, though, he barely touches her to cover her ankle boot; do not let her ankle appear, or...why? Instinctive decency, a gesture of unconfessed love towards the one who had never been a loving mother. This horrible end…does it come to erase the pain of the years without love? Even one without a heart does not deserve such end. These are the things that tap at his mind, while Roy questions him with his eyes, questions him in this deafening silence, questions him as he feels faint under the weight of all the unanswered questions.

"Mr. Dexter, your mother was alone at home?"

"Yes, uh yes, I spent the night at the Ponderosa with the Cartwrights. I left the ranch at about 9:00 pm."

Joe nods.

"And this, what is it?" Roy holds in his hand a scrap of paper. "I found it in your mother's hand. She was gripping it in her fist. It's a torn scrap of paper, with only this writing: room number 9, big hotel, Virginia City."

"My mother didn't tell me she'd rented a room; she had just become established in this room, at our place. We went to dinner at the Grand Hotel, but she didn't say she would sleep in the city..."

Later…

Hank Peterson, the gravedigger, arrives at the Dexters' ranch. He comes to take the body of Mrs. Dexter. Henry attempts to help in lift the body, but he does not succeed in placing his hand on the one who is not any more. Her frozen feelings are all he can think of. Insensitivity. Possessiveness. She could not love. He is aghast at the horror of the event, but also at the burden lifted off his life. Somebody struck his mother's head with a blow of enough force and determination to cause death instantly. Who? Who could do such a thing to an old lady? And why? Nothing has disappeared from the room. The jewelry is still on the table, the money on the bed, a precious brooch pinned to the velvet drapery. No one is struck down without any motive, with nothing taken except life; it exceeds understanding, especially in these lands where wealth attracts desires.

The floor creaks under the weight of the persons who enter. Joe has told the terrible new to his father and brothers. They all come in, with sorrowful faces and their hats in their hands. Ben comes first, followed by Adam and Hoss…and then Joan…

Without a word they come in the room. Joan is ashen. She looks so small in her long black skirt and her black blouse closed by small buttons. Ben has put a dark jacket over his shirt. Joan does something that she wouldn't have believed she could do: she puts her hand on Henry's shoulder. He wasn't hoping for that gesture of tenderness, and it appeases him. She is pure goodness at this moment. Ever maternal, she stands by him; oh yes, she stands by him; she has come back. She comes to him; she allows him to be sad, and he can count on her to alleviate his pain. She doesn't speak, but the language of her eyes is clear; it means I am there, I am with you, I am there for you. Ben also can't help watching this woman, who can forget her own sorrow to comfort the one who has hurt her...She is THE motherly figure: She sees differently, she reinvents love, love becomes tenderness, love means company, love is called support. Forgiven? Maybe she has forgiven, maybe not. Ben doesn't know about her feelings. Maybe it's just an attitude of temporary compassion; maybe it's just a parenthesis in a difficult paragraph. Like a different breathing in this time of aberration.

Virginia City, behind the chapel, a space overshadowed by pines...

Hoss and Joe, shovels in hand, finish digging a pit for the coffin of the deceased. They took care to remove their jackets and left them in the wagon.

Henry arrives, wearing a black frock coat, striped trousers, a clean shirt with fine white and grey streaks, a grey waistcoat on which hangs a silver chain attached to a watch in the small right pocket. His eyes are filled, but a bit empty also, the result of several nights without sleep and of the alcohol of the past few days. Tears? Not really. Henry does not waste tears, neither on his destroyed marriage nor on the memory of his mother. There are undoubtedly some unshed tears, under the eyelids there; are they going to fall?

With the last scoops of the shovel, the dust which flies off the above hillock covers the grave, under which lies Mrs. Dexter. Joan deposits the flowers: a bunch of daisies, every petal like a white tear on a golden heart. Then Henry comes forward with a wooden panel in his hands, on which are engraved these simple words:

Here rests in peace Eugénie Sue Dexter, died on September 30th, 1859.

"Hoss, Joe, go and put the shovels in the wagon," murmurs Ben to his two sons. Then he takes his Bible out of his pocket and begins to read.

"Yes, Pa."

"To everything there is a season,

And a time for every purpose under the sun.

A time to be born and a time to die,

A time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and a time to dance,

A time to get and a time to lose."

Henry links his hands in front of him, while Adam raises the panel at the head of the grave. The blows of the mallet fill the silence for several moments. Then the calm returns. Adam rubs his hands and comes near his brothers.

"Look at Joan," he says. "She's so kind to Henry. She seems to have forgotten everything."

"Adam," says Hoss, "these are special circumstances. It's natural that she's here."

"I know, Hoss."

"Maybe the death of this woman will help," Hoss suggests.

"I'm not so sure," Joe argues. "Don't forget that Henry is in big trouble; and more, Roy ois leading the investigation. Henry's mother was murdered. And..."

"And what, Joe?" Adam demands. "You can't be implying that Henry would kill his mother."

Joe snorts. "No, but…well, it still seems unclear."

"You know very well that Henry was with us."

"Yes, but we don't know how long she was dead in the room."

"Listen, Joe, you were with him," says Adam. "Did he give you the impression of being a killer?"

"Oh no, not him; he said nothing, he just showed me the room. But I think he's already showed us that he can lie well and play a role."

Somebody goes up to Henry and to Joan. A man who walks slowly, and who speaks confidentially to the huddled couple.

"My sincere condolences, Mr. Dexter."

"Thank you, Ned."

"My respects, Madam."

Joan answers by a nod of her head. She wears a small black veil on her mourning dress, which is black also. She holds in her hands the bunch of daisies which she is going to place on the tomb of this stepmother, whom she knew but poorly.

"I wanted to be present, Mr. Dexter; I have exchanged some words with your mother, a delightful woman. Really, what an ugly occurrence. But who could do something like this to a lady of such quality? The sheriff did not mention tracing it to any band of dangerous criminals. He has no such records."

Henry doesn't reply. He stares at the grave without listening to Ned's words.

"You know, Mr. Dexter, I will always remember your mother. Delightful. I still see her asking me to point out the closest hotel; she wanted to reserve a room. 'I do not want to disturb my son and his young wife,' she insisted."

Henry can't help shrugging shoulders with a nervous laugh, which gets lost in the movement. Undoubtedly his mother could be delightful and win the hearts of those whom she met. It was a pity that she did not put her charms and her charisma to such good use in her relationship with him.

After having greeted Ben and his sons, Ned leaves again. He puts on his hat and continues in the direction he had momentarily interrupted as he took the time to come up to the graveyard.

Joan turns around and heads for the wagon. Henr,; seeing her moving away, catches her in two big strides.

"Joan, wait. Where are you going?"

"Benjamin and his sons are waiting for me. I'm going back with them. I need to be alone."

"Don't leave me, Joan; I don't want to be alone in my home, with my mother's blood on the..." Henry can't end his sentence. Sobs choke in his throat. And he collapses tearfully, tightly holding onto his wife's hand. She sets her other hand on his shoulder. Henry lays his head onto Joan's chest and lets grief overtake him.

"I understand," she says. "Get a room at the hotel and try to sleep. I promise you that I'll think, and then we'll speak to each other again."

Joan joined Ben and the boys. She looks at her husband for the last time.

The Cartwrights' ranch house…

The inhabitants of Ponderosa are in bed…but not Joe. He hasn't been able to sleep. He's in the yard, perched on the fence, eyes planted on the ground, with drooping shoulders.

"Joe, what are you doing there ? It's late."

"I can't sleep, Pa, it's incredible; but I have a strange feeling."

"How?"

"Everything is unclear. The wrong certificate, the body on the floor, I don't like this..."

"Joe you should go rest, stop rehashing all this. You were witness to a horrible scene, and I think you're still shaken."

"Oh, Pa, I'm not a kid anymore. I don't know who to believe, I don't know that to think. I don't understand any of what this is showing me. Pa, do you think it's possible to judge the heart of a person? Can a man lie about all his intentions? Is it possible to have two personalities?"

"I don't know, son. I don't know."

"But do you believe it?"

"What I know son, it is that dishonesty cannot triumph in the end. At some point, all trickery fails, someday every usurper drops his mask. A day comes when too many lies have been told, and they draw the liar who told them into a hellish fall, and the entire construction of lies crumbles."

"Sure, but in the meantime all those who orbit around suffer."

"Yes, that's true. The liar causes a lot of pain. You see, Joe, that's why I've never tolerated lying. It's the worst of all transgressions, in my opinion. I can't accept it."

"Yes, I know. So how do you manage to respect Henry?"

"You just spoke of judging the heart of the man. It is the expression which helps me judge. A man can lie, but he can't control his expression. And what I read in Henry's expression was complete amazement when he faced everything that was falling on him."

"Oh..."

"Yes, Joe; that's what I saw. And believe me, I read things in the eyes of men; and I have rarely found the light that's in Henry's eyes."

"What light?"

"A light of goodness. Goodness, yes. Goodness which makes itself vulnerable by shining through. I fear for him..."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Henry is a man who is not the same as the rest of the world. He has a true kindness and doesn't seem to understand the insidious danger which lies in wait for us. Some would say he is naive. Naive people are dangerous to themselves because they don't see the world as you and I do."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I'm going to explain. Why do your brothers, you, and I always carry weapons, even when we're just bringing in the stock?"

"A man without a weapon doesn't have a chance to survive here, between the horse thieves and the highwaymen. And that doesn't even count the Indians."

"All right. You and I have learned to divide the world into two camps, the good and the bad. It's a question of survival, and sometimes it's necessary to decide very quickly. You can't condemn too quickly, but you can't get complacent either."

"That's hard, Pa."

"You're young, Joe, but don't think it gets any easier with years. You'll hesitate sometimes, and afterwards you'll doubt yourself. At the moment of decision, you'll have to trust yourself. Or not. Either way, you'll have to choose."

The following day, at about 11.00 pm, in the sheriff's office…

"Mr. Dexter, let's start again, please. When did you see your mother for the last time?"

"It had to be 9:00 a.m. I went out to get some fresh air. I galloped off."

"And your mother?"

"She stayed at the ranch. She had stopped off at my home, although I was struggling with personal problems, and…well, let's just say that it wasn't the best moment for her to find out."

"To find out what? Do you need to tell me something?"

"My mother and I sometimes grated on each other. She wasn't very loving, and she assuredly didn't accept my marriage. What of it?"

"What it means is that whatever you say to me, mister, isn't going to get you off the hook. In the absence of other clues, you're main suspect."

Henry jerks up his head, as if pierced by an arrow. "What? You're joking."

"I most certainly am not. You're the only person to have been near your mother, except for Ned Galagher. And he's above suspicion. You're armed, Mr. Dexter?"

"Yes."

"Will you give me your weapon?"

"I don't have it. It's with the Cartwrights. They would have taken it off me when they took me down from my horse. You'll find my gun at their ranch, and you'll also see that a bullet in the cylinder is missing. It's the one I fired at the rattlesnake which attacked me."

"Ah, yes. The bullet which hit your foot and gave you this nasty wound."

"A wound that healed well, thank God! Thanks to the Cartwrights' care."

"Let's get back to our affair here. So you left your ranch at the beginning of the night, and you reached the Cartwrights after being attacked by a snake. How long did you stay with Ben and his sons?"

"I spent the night at their home, and I left again on the following day. I could not impose my presence on my wife, not with what had taken place."

"What happened?"

"Someone sent her a letter with a wedding certificate, on which appeared my name. But this document is forged; I have just one wife, the one who has found shelter with Cartwrights."

"You are in big trouble, Mr. Dexter. But tell me, when you say you have an enemy, can you think of anybody in particular?"

"Well, no. I have no idea who could bear a grudge against me at this point. But it's clear that somebody wants to hurt me…Sheriff, are you going to keep me in jail?"

"I don't know; I haven't decided. Do I have your promise not to leave the city? You're a man of honour, Mr Dexter? You took an oath…"

"Honour…yes, that's what remains to me. A sullied honour, but honour nonetheless. Sheriff, I make you a promise that I will not leave the city. And you, what do you intend to do?"

"Continue searching; maybe explore the one clue we have. That room number on the paper I found in your mother's hand. Maybe the owner of the Big Hotel will be able to give us some information about the identity of the person who reserved this room. In any case, we're going to keep digging. Such a crime won't go unpunished; I make a personal guarantee of that. A criminal is running loose, and I won't tolerate it."

At the hotel…

Henry appears. He's just spent a second night in the hotel room that serves as home. He went home the day before to get some clothes, but he didn't stay. He took from his wardrobe two outfits, including three shirts, a nightshirt and a cake of soap, one or two towels and his razor, and he left. But then he turned around; he came back into the home, pushed open the door of their bedroom and took the portrait of them at their marriage. Finally, the portrait that was made after the wedding, during their honeymoon. The portrait they had made in a small booth, on a street in San Fransisco.

Then he sent a telegram to his office to say that he would be away a while. Later on, he decided, he would take the time to write a letter explaining his sad situation.

He takes his time opening his eyes; he savours the simple joy of lying a bit longer in a thick and cool bed. He has a quick look at the time: 7:55 p.m. Oh, he doesn't remember sleeping so well for a long time.

After attending his toilette quickly, he feels better; the fresh water on his face cheers him. He shaves carefully, paying attention not to cut himself. He plunges his hands several times into the bowl made of porcelain, drenching his cheeks and forehead. He closes his eyes and savours again. The white towel is not exactly sweet, but it smells like flowers. He puts on a shirt and trousers and goes down to the common room, where a set table waits for him. In a small corner of the room, far from the chattering couples, he can have breakfast without being disturbed. A cup of black coffee, canapes of bread spread with butter, smoked back bacon and two fried eggs...and all this served by an adorable person. The young waitress even smiles at him. But he does not speak to her; he considers his cup of coffee, dipping into it mechanically with his spoon, turning it tirelessly before carrying it to his mouth. He performs every gesture slowly, with a disillusioned, absent air. He seems far from everything, so formless, so confused.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Dexter? Do you want anything else?"

Silence.

"Sorry, sir, I do not want to disturb you, but..."

"Oh, forgive me, you spoke to me? I am distracted, excuse me..."

"Do you want something else?"

"No, thank you. Everything was perfect; thank you."

He has already gotten up, ready to leave the room. He has no desire to start a conversation, not with all he has in his head. He has far too much worry for this.

He goes out of the hotel; at this morning hour, the streets are empty. Some old ladies, coming to make some purchases, head with small steps for the shop. The manager is already there, sweeping the wooden floor in front the glass door of his boutique. The bell of the chapel school is soon going to ring nine o'clock. The children are soon going to come back, in a cheerful cavalcade which the mistress will make stop by clapping her hands. The small, quiet life of a small city is in full swing. Men driving wagons stop over to change an iron or to swap some supplies, skins, or fur; or they might double their stores of food or buy some powder. Lee Wong and his sons are very busy in the laundry they have just opened. They hear the hammering of the smith, the shouting of the men who tries to force passage on the big street, the main way of the city, full of dust and not laid with cobblestones. There is nothing similar to this in San Fransisco; the agitation is much less here, and the young lawyer appreciates this.

He decides to go to see the sheriff. This is the only person to whom he feels like speaking. At least, the sheriff does not chatter. He does not speechify on the death of Henry's mother, as other people do. Henry doesn't appreciate the sanctimonious comments by people that he doesn't know; their words just irritate him.

"Good morning, Mr. Dexter."

"Good morning, Sheriff."

Here is somebody who understands, who doesn't ask him, "How are you?" Henry appreciates this. No, Henry isn't doing well. His mother has been killed, he is on the list of suspects, he doesn't live with his wife anymore. So he is not doing well. He will see this trouble through alone; he wants to see nobody. He prefers staying with his cloudy mind and his brow furrowed.

"News, Sheriff?"

"I've sent several telegrams to the cities. I wanted to know if Bohnes and the band had been spotted in the area. But I haven't received any answers. Ned will bring me any messages right away. I hope this will bring some result, because I admit I don't know where to search."

"Thank you for being frank."

"I have to be honest. I swore to find the truth about the death of your mother, and I'll keep my promise... But at the moment, I must admit that I don't have anything big to announce you."

"I still have confidence. Sheriff, I have a favour to ask you. I'll shortly have to go to San Fransisco for, humph, to occupy the home of my mother and also to sign some papers for succession. I'll be able to go there, won't I?"

Roy raised his head, pondering deeply before answering. "I imagine it's important for you; I'll agree to let you go there."

"Thank you, Sheriff. Uh, another thing; did you go back, humph, to my home?"

"No, not since yesterday. Why?"

"I don't understand why everything remained undamaged in the home. My mother had placed her jewelry on the table, and nothing disappeared; it doesn't make sense. Any mere robber would have taken it. Otherwise, what is the reason for this violence? I don't understand, and it haunts me."

"I understand, Mr. Dexter. But this is my job. Let me make my investigation."

"Yes, but have you ever seen this type of disconnectedness?"

"Of course, of course. Though with all I've seen, nothing more could surprise me. Could you tell me a little more about your intuitions, Mr. Dexter?"

"Oh, no, I have no intuition. I'm just surprised. I know that treasures can attract desire; desire and jealousy can motivate a man. But what surprises me it is that my mother was attacked in my home. And she's a perfect unknown in Virginia City."

"So no one here would have spotted her during her trip until she arrived?"

"That's right. And how would anyone have known that she was at my home, when she was supposed to go to the hotel? That's what she asked Ned for. There's something that doesn't ring true, Sheriff..."

Meanwhile, in the early afternoon on the Ponderosa, Adam arrives in the ranch yard, dismounts, and walks towards his father.

"Pa, there's a problem here. I'm bringing back the body of a man. I found him in the north, near the section B. It's not nice to see; I think he's still breathing. But he's unconscious."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, it's the fellow we hired, the famous Canadian."

"What signs did you see around him?"

"No trace of a struggle, no traces of home, nothing apart from the body and…"

"Not even any cartridges?"

"Not a one. You know, maybe he was dropped here. He could have been attacked anywhere: in the desert or in the meadows farther north."

"But Adam, how was possible to miss his disappearance?"

Adam snorts. "Pa, I know nothing about it. I'm not going to intrude on the hands, or crowd the fellows in the evenings."

"I know, Adam; I'm not criticizing you. I just don't understand why none of our men came to alert us to his disappearance. Hank didn't even tell you about him?"

"No. You know, he was an extreme loner, this one. He didn't mingle with others a lot. The men thought he was a bit different with his accent and expressions, and in some of his little habits. But otherwise Hank implied absolutely nothing to me; he did his work."

"We'll need to speak to them anyway, and then we'll have to tell Roy."

"He's not going to know where to start any more than we are."

"This is going to be good for him; it will change the focus of his investigation. He isn't conscious of how he's using his time right now, he wants the truth about the death of Henrys mother so badly."

"I wouldn't be in his shoes; being sheriff is a job I never hope to have to do again."

"I understand, son; but sometimes you have to do it, and then it's not possible to evade."

"I know, Pa; but frankly, going to pick up bodies and getting hit by robbers and dangerous criminals; talk about less than fulfilling work."

"Yes, but there's great satisfaction in seeing that the interests of the citizens are served and that they support order in their city."

"Yeah, at the risk of his life, nevertheless. Okay, well, I'm leaving again. I'm off to tell Roy. I'll take the fellow with me. At worst, he'll die on the way, and at best, I'm sure to see Paul in city."

"Do I need to come with you?"

"No, Pa. I'll be back before night."

"Well, son, see you later. Be careful."

"I will, I promise."

Almost one hour after Adam has left the yard and his father...

They are on the way to Virginia City. Adam holds the reins of his own horse but also the reins of the other horse, on which he's tied the body of the poor unconscious man. But the fellow doesn't stay in this condition; he starts to move. It seems that he's about to come back. The first things he sees are the ground and the legs of a horse. His first words are, "Hey, what's the meaning of this? Who tied me? What am I doing here? Hey, let me go!"

Adam turns back and stops his horse. "Hey ho, old friend; you're back?"

"You have to untie me now. Why have you done this? I want an explanation."

"Oh, don't ask so much, please." Adam starts to untie the fellow. He puts him on his feet. "How are you? Not injured?"

"Ho, I feel good, for sure. Hey, shut up. I was tied like a link sausage, tied on a horse; why shouldn't I be impatient? Where are we going? Ho, wait a minute, my head..."

Adam, seeing the man fainting, holds his arm and lowers him to the ground. "Sit down, old friend, this will keep you from fainting. I don't want to hold you in my arms; you don't look like a young girl."

"Yeah, and have you got a problem with that? And first, who are you?"

"I'm Adam Cartwright, and...oh, wait, old friend, do you know your name?"

"Yes, what do you think? I'm Edmund Marchildon. I'm not amnesic, you have bugs in your head."

"What? Oh, I see, you're better. Maybe we can go."

"Where are we going?"

"Ho, old friend, you calm down. I found you in the north section and you were about dead. Maybe you can explain? Have you found yourself some big trouble with bad guys?"

"Well…" The man puts his hand in his pocket, take a cigar out and strikes a match under his heel. He throws away the match and lifts the cigar to his mouth. "Ah, this makes me feel better."

"I can believe it's doing you good, but you have to pick up this match before it starts a fire. You work for us, you know rules."

"Hey, you're kidding me. I'm not just off the boat."

Adam loses his patience, goes up to the guy, catches him by his blue scarf and shakes him. "That's enough, you do as you've been told or I fire you."

"Don't bust your suspenders, you pompous ass. You're not the boss. Let me go."

"Oh no, I won't."

"All right, friend. Do you want to sit down and smoke a cigarette? Cool off."

"I don't smoke."

"Why not?"

"I don't like the taste of it."

"About taste, I'd like to have a drink, a good beer or a whisky."

"We're not far from Virginia City; we can mount up and go."

"Yes, Bossy."

"Don't call me Bossy. You've got a nerve. We hardly know each other!"

"And we won't. Cartwrights will never be friend with ranch hands! Oh no..."

"You're so aggressive. You have to mellow or you'll be soon in big trouble. Someday I guarantee you'll find one who'll kick your bucket..."

"Hahahaha, he's not born, that one. Do you think I care? This kind of speech is just hot air. Barkings dogs seldom bite."

"Think again, old friend. Sooner or later you'll meet one who will teach you a lesson or kill you."

"Go fart in the clover; think anyone can beat me up? Don't make me laugh. Move your butt...and stop talking, I'm thirsty."

Back at the Ponderosa…

Ben come in with energy' he puts down his hat, his Colt and his jacket. "Pfft, it's sultry and heavy...storm's brewing."

"Yes, that's why I went into the boys' rooms to close the windows, and I also took the sheets off Joe's bed. Just like that, he'll sleep on clean ones this evening."

"Joan, you are too good. I don't want you to make Joe's bed, he can do it himself."

"I know Ben, but it doesn't bother me; and besides, it keeps my mind busy."

"I understand, but you're not here to take care of the rooms. You have to promise me, you won't take care of my son's bed anymore."

"I promise, Ben."

Tenderly, he puts his hand on her shoulder and gives her the most luminous smile. Surely this man knows the way which leads towards the heart of a woman.

Slightly later...

The storm breaks over the yard; rain beats on the windows, big drops are crashing on the ground full of dust. Hop Sing has just had enough time to close the windows. It's blowing a gale, and Hop Sing don't like it.

"Wind will again blow off all tiles of patio. Hens will be aflaid and won't lay during thlee days. Mistel Hoss won't be happy, Mistel Hoss wants to eat eggs...and...and Mistel Hoss will get over...Oh no, I hear the door of the barn; still open...I go..."

Ben grabs his hat and jacket before rushing out the door, towards the big wooden barn where Buck is waiting for his four-hooved companions.

In the barn:

"You see, Buck, I'm afraid your friends will be soaked. Adam and Sport will perhaps be lucky and be in the shelter of Virginia City, but Hoss and Joe will be wet through."

Buck seems to calm down.

"I know you don't like the storm. But you should think of the others. You, at least, are out of the storm."

Flashes of lightning streak the sky, lighting a horizon which dived into darkness before the first drops. A deafening crash answers.

"Oh no, the lighting struck behind us; that's for sure. I hope, it won't cause a disaster."

Ben know so many ranchers who have lost yard and cows and horses after a fire caused by lightning.

A few minutes later, Ben pushes the door and comes in. "Lousy weather. I'm soaked."

"Oh, then Mistel Cartlight is going to have a good bath. Hop Sing will heat many washbowls for baths. Every Cartlight will need a good one."

Ben finishes undoing the last button and removes his shirt, which sticks to his skin. Ben, a broad-chested man, has a body sculpted by hard work under the sun. The material of his trousers holds some drops, and he decides to keep them on. He catches the white towel which Hop Sing tosses to him and begins drying his back and his chest. Seeing Joan, he stops, stunned into silence as she stands on the stair.

"Oh, forgive me," he says.

"Oh, excuse me, Ben, I did not want...I..." Flustered, although trying to hide her agitation, she starts to turn around to go back up towards her room.

Fortunately Hop Sing is already there to toss him a dry shirt, which he hastens to fasten up.

"No, no, stay, Joan. Now I'm decently dressed." He says this with a lightly ironic air. "You don't seem to fear the storm, my dear; I'm surprised, I know many ladies who would already have their head under a cushion until this calms down. I remember that Marie didn't like storms. Inger, on the contrary, loved this; I even saw her going out and dancing in the rain during storms. And I couldn't say a word to Adam, he stayed with her and didn't want to come in."

"My people taught me not to fear the anger of the Big Spirit; we Indians identify the Thunderbird as the one who brings the rain; flashes of lightning come from his eyes, and the thunder comes from the flapping of his wings. Thunderbirds live in the forest in the west end of the Earth, where they construct their nests and fill their pipes with needles of cedar. During a storm, Thunderbirds fly off and launch the storm."

"That's a very nice belief; Joan."

"The world of harmony which inspires our religious beliefs is constituted of the earth, the water, clouds, the wind, plants, minerals and of course, animals. That's why, for us, the Milky Way is the way towards the country where the dead rest in peace."

"I could share this belief, Joan. There's so much softness and peace in your belief. I like this idea of a Milky Way for those who have left us. I've often seen in a star the face of my dear missing people."

"Well, Ben, you have the soul of a Paiute."

"This I can't say, dear friend."

"But I think so. You are so near earth and nature, Ponderosa is your goddess, and you bestow on her an enormous devotion."

"That's true, the Ponderosa occupies a huge place in my heart. It's the earth of my dream."

"I was taught that the heart of a man who distances himself from nature becomes hard. It is necessary to learn to consider earth and nature, and to remember that nothing belongs to us."

"That is surely true, dear friend."

"It is because of this that the old Indians lie down on the soil rather than to remain separated from the force of life. To sit down or to stretch out so allows them to think more deeply, to feel more deeply. They meditate then, with better clarity, on the mysteries of life; and they feel closer to all living forces which encircle them."

"I've understood that, by sitting with the Paiute chief when you were given to me."

"Yes, this position aims at erasing difference; a lot of conflicts arise and burst out when one man wants the upper hand. Men thirst for greatness, for size, and they forget that Big Spirit alone is Size and Superiority; no animal, no being on earth is superior. The Red Man knows that everything shares the same breath; the animal, the tree and the man. They all share the same breath."

"What wisdom. That's true, and I am convinced that we have a lot to learn from your people. Instead of this, the white man never stops seeking a quarrel. It reminds me of a play that I saw with Adam while he was in Boston. It was called 'Nathan the Sage,' by a Prussian author, but I don't remember his name anymore. The story takes place in Jerusalem, the characters belong to different religions, but they realize that they share much more than their religious antagonism. A Jewish trader, Nathan, learns upon his return from a business trip that his foster daughter, Recha, was saved from a fire by a knight in the order of the Temple. This Christian is the lone survivor of a group of knights put to death by Sarrazins himself. This Nathan, known for his wisdom, answers a question by a story, 'The Parable of the Ring.'"

"A ring? That's curious; the circle is one of the signs most respected by the Red Man, because life, by its very nature, moves in a circle; we speak about the cycle of life."

"Yes, that's true. But the White Man for a very long time kept his distance from this idea."

"Why?"

"Because the White Man thought that the earth was flat."

"Flat? But that's stupid. Everything is round in life: the head of the man, the fruits of the earth, the belly of the pregnant woman, the summit of a hill. How could he make such a mistake?"

"Those who believed it went so far as to sentence to death those who thought in another way," replied Ben, with dark and pensive air.

"What makes the White Man do this? My people say that there's only a single way of loving and serving Big Spirit. If there is only one religion, why aren't white people agreed on this subject? Your religion is written in a book, you often read it. Then why don't you agree, if you all can read the book?"

"Ah, Joan, you raise a very prickly question there. It would be possible to spend the night over it, but I'm not sure we would succeed in finding a quarter of a half of the answer," Ben concludes, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Ben. But back to your parable. Excuse me, I interrupted you."

"A man has a ring which has the power to inspire love for the one who carries it, and he leaves to his favourite son, enjoining him to do the same. The ring is so transmitted from father to son until the day when it falls to a father equally devoted to his three children. Seeing himself dying, he has two new rings made by a goldsmith, and he gives a ring secretly to each of his sons. After the death of the father, the sons argue over the inheritance, each persuaded that he holds the true ring. Not finding any possible compromise, since each has the words of father and cannot reassess without accusing his beloved father of having lied to him, the brothers ask the judge for an arbitration. The judge points out that the ring has the reputation to inspire the love of God and of men, and that it is enough to wait to see which ring is effective, unless the father fabricated three new rings and the original ring is lost. The judge therefore invites the brothers to work for the future by trying hard to leave generations to come the most virtues possible."

Joan does not lose a crumb of what Ben says; she is charmed by the calm and deep voice of this outstanding man. He has the magnanimity of a sage of his people; when Ben Cartwright begins speaking, the world is silent and listens.

"It is a very nice legend…is it correct to call it that?"

"I think so. Others would say that it is a dogma; therefore the truth heard which others try to show. The legend is carried by those who believe in it and who never would go to impose it on others."

"It is what the Red Man tries to do; he questions and teaches, but does not try to impose. Everybody must find the good way, but that it is difficult to find. Nobody can show it. Each must discover him by himself..." Joan leaves her sentence unfinished, suspending it when she sees Ben putting down his cup and walking towards the door.

"Excuse me, but I heard a horse gallop up."

Ben is already outside to find his sons. He cannot help it; he has to go to welcome his sons when they come back home.

"Come indoors, boys, I'll take care of the horses."

"Thank you, Pa."

Hoss and Joe leave him and the horses with pleasure; they are streaming, with water trickling down, and they want only one thing: to dive into a good hot bath.

Ben drives the horses to the barn; he ties their reins to the post and starts to rub Chubb down.

"I'll help you." It's Joan who is behind him; she takes a towel and starts to rub Cochise.

"Thank you. Joan."

"I shouldn't say it, but I enjoy your company. Everything is simple with you, and I have something that isn't negligible, the feeling that nothing could hurt me. Ponderosa gives me a life force which I did not even suspect."

"Let us hope that that's always so, here and elsewhere. Humph, Joan, forgive me for being so curious, but what do you intend to do regarding Henry? Do you plan to return to him?"

"Frankly, I don't know. I don't long for it. I realized something, it could almost be ridiculous. I am an ex-Paiute; I was brought up by people who allow their men to have multiple wives, and a white man, for whom I made many sacrifices, gets married twice…but I don't think I can handle it. To sleep in a home in which a crime was committed…no, I won't be able. Ben, my people are accustomed to living in the open air, in teepees that we can transport easily, and that gives us an enormous freedom. We move as we need to, and we know that in case of danger, we can clear everything away in less than thirty minutes. I have to live in a huge structure, without air, that's nailed onto the soil. I cannot move my house to go elsewhere, and I cannot erase the traces of the ignominy which was done there."

"I understand, I understand. Know that I won't expel you. You can stay here as long as you want to."

Joan stands up, drops the towel, and nestles against Ben. Surprised, he knows that he has no strength to push her back even if he should try.

"Oh, Ben, I need just a little of your tenderness; it's like a poultice on my aching heart."

"Joan, I'd like to give you more than a little of tenderness, you know that." He holds her against him, and put his hand on her hair.

Meanwhile, Adam and Edmund gallop on the sandy path; they aren't far from Virginia City. But the first drops start to fall. First one or two, then very quickly a rainstorm. Adam gives a quick look to his companion and says to him, "Go, old friend; we have to move faster. Otherwise, we'll drink more rain than beer."

"But it's a dump! First we have to wear big hats because of the sun, and now because it's bucketing down!"

"You know, you're a funny guy. I don't know what to make of such a temperament."

"What temperament? I won't defer to you. You seem to be one of those Jean Lévesque types."

"I don't know this man. Who's Jean Levesque?"

"The kind of man who knows everything about bloody everything, and makes fun of poor fellows like me."

"No, you're wrong. I'm not that…ouch!" Adam stops talking; a tree has started to burn, after having struck by lightning. "When I was a kid, my father taught me how to count after seeing lightning flash. Sometimes we could count until four, and that meant the thunder was about to stop."

"Yes, that' s nice, but I'm not as thick as pea soup. I have just one word to say: deguedine."

"Deguedine? What does that mean?"

"Deguedine means we can't stay here, we have to leave...or we're going to have all the Saints in heaven fall on our heads, and that will be trouble."

Now both men are right in the middle of the storm; the rain continues falling on them, and Adam feels how the water soaks more and more into his jacket. The path is muddy, and with every galloping step of their horses, more and more mud covers them.

"Curses, bloke! We could fall on our arses. This isn't a good time to be riding horses. Are you sure you still want to ride to Virginia City?"

"Oh, yes, we need to see the doctor."

"The doctor? Why?"

"When I found you on the path, you were unconscious, old friend."

"Yeah, I know, you told me."

"Yes, but you didn't tell me anything about it."

"I was on my horse and I fell, that's all. You were thinking I had been beaten up."

"Fine, it's not important. I just want to know if you can go back to work."

"Maybe we could stay in town and spend the night there. The rain isn't stopping."

"Hey, I'm not going pay for a room for you."

"You're a pig. A bossy pig."

"Yeah, I know, but that's the way it is."

Adam does not show it, but he's very happy to have had the last word. It's true, he isn't the top boss; but nevertheless, his voice counts to the ranch hands, and that's really great. It's just that a personality and an aura have to be constructed bit by bit. Certainly Adam didn't start out as a boss, as his father did on a ship. No, his diplomas, certificates, and knowledge gave him his status. But few people in Virginia City have studied; only rich people have such chances to go to school. Adam knows he didn't buy his diploma. Even if the Ponderosa gives his family a roof and an income that's better than decent, that's not still the case. And Adam knows what it is to be hungry. Oh, he surely felt it less than his father, who went hungry so often to feed his son. But Adam hasn't had meat on the table every day of his life. When he was very young, it was more often a round loaf of bread dipped into a too- clear bouillon and some seasonal fruits.

********In the barn...

Joan is pressed up against Ben. Suddenly she screams and begins struggling. "Hey, but, let me...Cochise, don't bite my dress..."

Her shouting mingles with Ben's laugh. Joan turns, waving her arms. Ben gives the horse a swat to make it loosen its grip.

"This young lady seems to appreciate the flowers on your dress."

"Cochise is a young lady?"

"Yes."

"Anyway, they are good together, Little Joe and Cochise. Cochise knows how to charm someone, just like your youngest son."

"Yes, that's true. I never thought of that."

"Indians think that the man and the animal never meet coincidentally. There are souls that try to find each other."

"And what are human beings?"

"A warrior, from the moment he claims to be a man among men, capable of bringing up a family, can take a companion, another young person, one of his own kind; one who has the ability to skin a buffalo, to sew moccasins, and to prepare food. At first they court only stealthily; the young man hides under her blanket, unseen, and he waits for the girl when she goes to get some water at the river."

"So there's no pretense in your courtship rituals."

"No pretense, no. But everything is hidden, and they express many things with this blanket. So the young Indian maid, by nodding her head, may make the cover fall, and that shows that she is in love. Also, very often, she paints bright red drawings on her face."

"I know somebody who had a tattoo of a dolphin on his arm. He was a boy, and he got this tattoo on the day of his wedding."

"The whale, Ben, is thought to be the master of the ocean. The dolphins are his warriors, and he represents the guide. The young man who tattooed this shows gratitude to his father, and he asks for the blessing of his father on his union. He hopes to be as good a father as his own."

The girl finishes her sentence with a shiver. She clasps her arms around her body.

"Take my jacket. You're shuddering. How silly of me, to keep you here. Come on, let's go back. We'll go indoors to finish this exciting discussion. You'll tell me more, promise?"

"I promise."

And he caresses her hand before drawing her away towards the ranch, encircling her with his arms.

In the ranch house…

Joe says, "Oh, we're better off here than outside."

"Oh, yes, such lousy weather," Hoss agrees. "Oh, my god."

"I don't know if God had anyhing to do with this weather."

"Oh, I was just talking. Hey, ain't Pa back yet?" Hoss wonders, taking a cup of steaming coffee.

"I'm just glad he offered to take in the horses; it's good to get out of chores from time to time."

"I won't contradict you, for sure. It's not like Pa, so let's enjoy it. If he wants to do something nice, who are we to refuse?"

"It's more often that he sticks us with an extra rack of chores, than lightening our burden or relieving our pain..." Joe is interrupted by sputters; both turn their heads to the heavy wooden door which bursts opens wide and fast.

"Come in, it will be warm inside," Ben is saying. He and Joan are coming from the barn. The young woman has Ben's jacket on her shoulders. And on her shoulder, there is also Ben's hand.

"Oh wait," Ben says. "Allow me?" And very slowly, with his fingertip, he brushes away a strand of hair that the rain has plastered to her cheek. She lets him do it and gives him a lovely smile.

At this moment, hearing his two sons stifle a burst of laughter, Ben stops. "You said something, Joe?"

"No, I said nothing. Honest, Pa."

"You know better." Ben isn't fooled. He knows only too well the conspiratorial, smirking faces of his two sons.

"Let's go have lunch; this will keep you two from saying something stupid. Just a minute, I'll come right back."

Hoss looks at Joe. "Pa's acting strange."

"I'd say he's about to taste the forbidden fruit."

"Oh, no, Joe; don't say that."

"Oh, Hoss, I can't believe you. You should buy glasses. Don't you have seen how they've fallen for each other? They're writing their second chapter."

"Second chapter? What do you mean?"

"Well, the first chapter was when Joan arrived here after the tribe exiled her. And now they're writing the second chapter, and I have an idea that this one isn't going to end like the first. It seems clearer and clearer to me that Pa is not going to let her leave."

"Oh, Joe, you can't think that. Pa would never court a married woman."

Joe moves his index under the nose of his brother. "No, no, not married. I'm telling you, she's going to ask for a divorce. And she'll get it. Nothing can oppose their love."

Hoss shakes his head and turns on his heel.

"Pooh, pooh, pooh, pooh, pooh, stop! You're imagining things. And top of the list, it's none of our business. We shouldn't be discussing stories about Pa's heart. You know he doesn't like us to meddle in his life."

In the sheriff's office, Roy is with his two deputies, Dave and Larson.

"Okay, we have this woman who was murdered, apparently hit in the back of the head. Nothing in the room disappeared. The murderer touched nothing, he took nothing. The woman is the mother of Henry Dexter, and they weren't on good terms…which, unfortunately, leads us to suspect him. Even if I don't much believe it."

"Sheriff, you should know that nothing is impossible."

"I find it hard to believe; he has a stunned air about everything that's happened to him. And there's also this wrong document."

"Wrong document?" asks Dave.

"Yes, Henry Dexter told me that his name appears on a certificate of marriage, established in his name in a neighboring city. An anonymous letter was sent to his wife with the certificate. Confused, she took refuge with Ben at Ponderosa. Henry left his ranch at about nine p.m for a ride on horseback. He was bitten by a snake and shot his foot. Then he made it to Ponderosa, where he spent the night."

"Bitten by a snake, you say?"

"It would seem that the animal broke its teeth on his boot, otherwise, he would have never reached the ranch."

"He was armed?"

"Yes, that's what he said. But the weapon stayed at the Ponderosa. Anyway, the body of the poor unhappy woman didn't have a bullet wound. Her head was smashed; she was hit with a stick."

"Or the butt of a revolver. And that brings us back to her son," concludes Dave.

"Yes, I thought of that. He knows he's suspected."

"And what prevents you from arresting him?" asks Dave.

"His morality, I assume?" adds Larson, a bit sarcastically.

"Well, yes, let's just say that I can't imagine him hitting his mother and making up this story."

"Yes, but this would explain why nothing was taken."

"I don't know about that. This woman, nobody knows anything about her in the city. Of course, it's always possible to tell when an outlaw has passed through hereabouts, so I have to admit that circumstances do not look good for this poor man Dexter. Hiss quarrel with his mother, this wrong document…it makes a lot…"

"What are we going to do, Sheriff? Should we send a telegram to the judge?"

"If Mr. Dexter goes to trial, he'll be hanged. I feel like being sure, I don't want an error. I don't like this affair."

"Why don't you say it?" Larson asks. "Say it bothers you to have to realize that a man of law could be guilty."

"Well, yes, Larson. It seems to me that we can't suspect a lawyer. It he's guilty, the world is becoming mad."

"Well, nothing surprises me. After all, as I told you, nothing of this family is known. After all, he's as much a lawyer as I am the President of the United States."

"Oh, stop your nitpicking!" Roy snaps. "First you insist that Mr. Dexter assassinated his mother, now you say he's not lawyer! I'm sorry, but I'm not with you."

"But Sheriff, admit that everything is against him. He won't avoid the gallows."

"At the moment, it's not a matter of capital punishment. I want to win a little time and to try to continue my investigation, and…"

"Impossible, Sheriff, I told the judge."

"What? You did what?"

"I sent a telegram to Judge Buckler, and he'll be here in three days."

"But why?"

"It's the procedure. We always do this in the case of a homicide. And we have the culprit; I don't see why you're yelling at me."

"You've just sentenced him to death, you idiot!"

"You're wrong, Sheriff. Dexter condemned himself. And I won't let you insult me."

"Oh, Mr. Larson is so sensible…I'm right, Larson, and I'm right to tell you what I think. But on top of that, look what I'm going to do!" Roy moves in front of Larson, and with a disdainful look and a quick gesture, he tears off the badge pinned on his deputy's chest. "You can take the door out of here; you're fired. You shouldn't have taken such initiative without speaking to me about it first. I'm still the sheriff here, and don't you forget it."

Larson, without a look for Roy, takes his hat and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. Five years of collaboration have disappeared in forty-five seconds.

"I can't save Dexter now," Roy mutters.

"But Sheriff, I don't think he'd have a chance of avoid the gallows anyway. I'll say it again," Dave insists.

"I pinned your badge on you, too. You knew that Larson sent a telegram?"

"No, but I can't agree with your version of the facts. I wouldn't have gone to tell the judge, but I see the evidence, and it's not in his favour. That's a bit big, this story of a rattlesnake and a bullet in the foot."

In front of the office, Larson pauses on the boardwalk which separates him from the street. He raises his eyes and fixes them on the immensity of the sky.

"What a crummy morning."

The reaction of the sheriff was so violent; Larson doesn't understand. He has no feeling that he's made an error; he just followed standard procedure. The judge is always told in cases of violent death. Roy reproached him for overstepping his limits, but Larson and Dave have always done this. The deputies have the same responsibilities as the sheriff; from the moment when a sheriff or a judge pins a star on your chest, he makes you his right hand.

Larson remembers the day when he arrived, five years ago, or almost...He was a poor guy from Carson City with twenty cents in his moth-eaten bag. Ready to try his luck in a new city, poor Larson Clark, orphaned by his mother, abandoned by his father, brought up by his grandmother Pétula. She was a woman of great goodness, but he had made her hair white. "You're a brigand, a robber; you'll grows as the bad grass," she always told him, but with affection. No father when he was small. Larson's father stayed away, following his own way and never again having to meet his son. Larson could have done something stupid; he could have been an outlaw. He played with fire often enough, as they said.

That's true, now that he thinks of it; there's nothing finer than the demarcation line between good and evil. What's the difference between a medal for good deeds and handcuffs which lead to prison...chance? Misfortune? Destiny decided in a cradle? Has Larson Clark always been destined to finish life in a cell? Although he's spent the last five years in a room with cells and bad guys, he's never crossed the line and has stayed clean. He could have made a bad encounter, followed a bad influence, and turned his back on the life of an honest man. But no, he's still an honest man, an honest man without a job now.

Joan is now at the table with Ben and two of his three sons. Hop Sing brings to the table a big pot from which escapes a delightful aroma.

"Hop Sing, what have you prepared for us?" Joan asks.

"Hop Sing prepares hen, French recipe Missus Cartlight bring back from her lovely country."

"And what did you put in it?"

"Skull cap mushroom, turnip, rutabaga, celery, onion, cloves, leeks, salt, pepper, and I added some rice."

"Hop Sing, you spoil us; it's delicious."

Joan's eyes shine. Soon no one speaks, since all mouths are busy eating.

Suddenly the peaceful meal is disturbed by a waterfall of pebbles hitting the small window above Ben's office.

"What is it?" Ben shouts as the window breaks. Ben, Hoss and Joe rush outside, barely taking time to get their guns. Outside a surprise waits for them: a young fellow faces them with a gun in his hand. Hoss, Joe, and Ben cock their weapons.

"Drop that, son," says Ben.

The kid turns his head, throws Ben a look of defiance, but does not comply.

"Don't be stupid. Give it up," Ben warns in a husky voice, advancing towards the young kid. "Give it to me." Then Ben rushes the fellow and roughly disarms him. He leads him, none too gently, to the barn, grasping him by the collar of his jacket and the bottom of his trousers. He pushes him down to make him sit on a bale of straw. Then he stands squarely in front of him, feet far apart and hands on hips. Ben's jaw is tensed and his eyes are black with anger.

"Now, young man, you are going to explain. And it had better be a good explanation, or I'll give you a tanning you'll never forget."

"Sorry," he murmurs, eyes planted on the soil.

"Hey, look at me when you tell me something."

Slowly he stands up and dares to meet the gaze of the one who is yelling at him. "I did not want..."

"You did not want? You did not want?"

Uh oh, it's never a good sign when big Benjamin Cartwright begins repeating sentences.

"I know, I shouldn't have done it."

"No, I agree; you should not have done this. So explain to me now."

"Well, I've lost my mind..."

"That's a good beginning. Continue."

Now Ben takes his hands off his hips and crosses his arms on his chest.

"I have a girlfriend, Daisy McCain. But yesterday evening, I don't know why, she broke our engagement. And then…"

"And then?"

"Then I guess I drowned my grief a bit in some bad whisky."

"Just a bit? You stink of whisky, kid. So this gave you the idea to make a hole our shutters? Is that right?"

"Yes, uh, no. I did it without thinking."

"Without thinking, that's true. You're not a kid anymore, you have to think before acting. I'll spare you the lecture on the risk you took. I don't think you're capable of thinking about what you've done."

"Mister Cartwright, I know I did something stupid. Forgive me. I'm sorry. But I got so mad when she told me she was leaving me."

"Well, let think about it. You're working for me, son, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"What should I do now with you?"

"You'll have to dismiss me."

"Yes, I'll do that. Where will you sleep? Do you have any relatives here?"

"Um, no, my father is dead. My mother works in a saloon in San Francisco. So..."

"So?"

"Well, let's just say sometimes I like to believe I've got a family and a roof. I hope I'm not being disrespectful, Mr Cartwright, by saying this. Especially after what I did."

A third change of position for Ben: after hands on hips, then arms crossed on his chest, he opens his arms and hugs the boy in a fatherly gesture.

"You're not disrespectful, son. You did something stupid, that's true, but you have the courage to admit your errors. I agree with you, you have a family here."

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright."

"You're welcome. Let's call this an isolated incident."

"You won't fire me?"

"No, I won't. If I did, you'd just use it as an excuse to drink. You'll stay here, and you'll work for me as one of my sons."

"Oh, thank you Mister Car..."

"Don't interrupt me, son, I didn't finish. I said I'll keep you here as a ranch hand...but, and I say repeat: but, I NEVER WANT TO SEE AGAIN YOU ACTING LIKE THIS AGAIN...IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes sir."

Ben has shouted the last sentence. The young boy will have sore ears for sure.

"There will not be a second chance. I don't want to tell you again."

"YES, sir."

"Now let's talk about how you'll pay for that window. You seem surprised. You didn't hope to get away with this? You broke the window pane, and I think the woodwork is broken, too. And that doesn't even count the threat and the danger you put us in. So I think a payment is appropriate."

"Well, Mr. Cartwright,I deserve any punishment you decide to give me."

"You're a good kid. So let's start with the financial aspect of this. I'm forced to keep back enough of your wages to pay for the damage YOU caused. And as regards the 'moral' aspect of your actions, I'm going to give extra chores. You'll have a list on breakfast table. Oh, something else: I almost forgot, I said you could consider yourself one of my sons. You see, my sons have often earned lectures, extra chores, and a sort of house arrest for misdeeds. So consider yourself confined to this property for a long time."

"Yes, sir."

The repentant young boy retreats and heads for the barn door, when a hard swat lands on his jeans.

"And that's the fourth part: after lecture, extra-chores and house arrest, the famous 'necessary talking to.' You are part of the family, son."

The son throws a smile to his boss and leaves the barn, rubbing the stinging spot on his backside. Undoubtedly Mr. Cartwright has heavy words, but also a generous heart. Other men wouldn't have been so tolerant; others would have told it to the sheriff or worse, shot him without any warning. Finally, all's well that ends well: a broken heart, a sore bottom, and soon bruises on his hands, but he'll always have a roof, money, and people who care about him.

At the ranch, about 3:00 p.m., Adam hasn't come back yet. This is strange, Ben thinks. Very strange. I don't like it. He should have been here a while ago.

Ben is on the porch, hands in pockets, pacing up and down in front of the door. His eyes are continuously fixed towards the distant path which goes around the barn. He's finished a hundred and one small tasks, he's recorded in writing all the chores he intends to make his guilty young rancher do, and he's even taken Joan for a buggy drive along the edges of the lake.

Sudden a horseman arrives at gallop.

"It's Adam!" Ben shouts.

Adam dismounts from his horse. He looks tired, and he has some blood on his clothes and on his cheek.

"Joe, Hoss; come help me!" Ben calls.

The three men help Adam to walk, and they take him indoors. Hop Sing, who also ran out when he heard the commanding voice of Mistel Cartlight, takes Sport's bridle and leads him to the barn.

Adam is now on the chesterfield, and his father leans very close to him. "You're hurt, Adam?" he asks.

Adam shakes his head no. He drinks a little bit of water from the glass his father has just brought him.

"Hey, son, you're fine? What happened?"

"In the city…fight in the saloon…big altercation…"

The words barely come out; his voice catches. Adam seems troubled...He has almost tears in his throat.

Bens looks from his son sitting there to his two sons standing near the chesterfield. They can barely hide their impatience to know what's happened.

"Adam," Ben urges, "can you say more about what happened?"

"Pa, where is Joan?"

"Well, in her room. Why?"

"Henry is hurt, seriously injured."

"What happened, Adam?"

"Edmund and I went into the saloon to have a beer and a steak. Henry was sitting down close to us, drinking a whisky. He listened to us speaking; I invited him to sit down with us. And then Edmund put his hand in his pocket, and something fell from it. Henry rushed to pick it up, and then he caught Edmund by the collar and began shaking him. He was yelling, 'Where did you find this? It belongs to my mother, this...' He was hysterical; he said it was a bracelet he bought for his mother when he received his diploma. He called Edmund a thief, a murderer, and made a big scene in the saloon. Henry wouldn't listen to anybody; I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't have it. And then Edmund stabbed him. Henry collapsed. Emond tried to escape, but I shot him."

"You killed him?"

"No, pa, I shot him in the leg. Roy has put him in jail."

"And Henry?"

"When I got to him, he was already losing a lot of blood. I pulled out the knife blade, and I pressed on the wound with a clean cloth, waiting for Paul. It was a nasty wound. We have to tell Joan. She'll want to be with him."

Ben answers only with a nod. Then he heads for the stairs. Setting his foot on the first step, he turns back toward the boys. "It's my job to tell her," he says.

My God, he thinks, this step is high; the weight of such news is dreadfully heavy. Ben feels it; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to calm the violent storm in his chest. What to say to her? Henry has been stabbed, he is between life and death. Another step; eight, seven, then five; his legs are so heavy. He goes up slowly, delaying the instant when he'll have to explain. Adam didn't say much, but the basics are there. Henry is seriously injured. Henry is perhaps going to die.

In the city, Paul has asked the men in the saloon to carry Henry up to his home. Paul now sees that he'll need to give Henry a strong dose of laudanum, enough to keep the man from fidgeting.

"Mr. Dexter, stop moving. You're losing more and more blood. And I can't stop the hemorrhage."

His patient gets weaker and weaker still.

I should give him some blood, but that could kill him.

But if he waits, Henry will die. He's seen such wounds, and only a few men have been saved.

"Doctor, what do you think?" one of the men comes and asks.

"Very bad. Maybe some organs have been damaged. He's lost a lot of blood. I have to stop this damned hemorrhage. Give me more gauze, and bring the lamp closer. I can't see anything."

Paul dries his forehead and sees that his hands are covered with blood.

"I've succeeded in suturing the wound; but still, this could go septic. If that happens, he will die

At the Ponderosa…

Ben stops in front of Joan's room. She's going to have to know, and he is going to have to tell her. Already he knows that he'll hate what he's getting ready to do. He must do it, but he hates every second. Being the bearer of bad news, being the one who will inflict an enormous pain. What to say? How to say it? He raises his hand and knocks against the wood of the door.

"Come in."

Joan turns go him; she's folding her clothes. He sees her at work, hanging a dress. The pink satin belt slides to the floor. Immediately he goes to pick it up, and she does too; he touches her hand; they smile. He hands her the belt, and she takes it and softly thanks him. Her eyes meet Ben's eyes once again.

"Joan, I have something to say to you. Come."

He takes her hand and leads her to the bed. She sits down, and he takes a chair.

"Joan, something serious happened in the saloon."

"Adam?"

"No, Adam is fine. He's just arrived. He's very shocked, but he managed to explain to us...I believe I understood that Henry is seriously injured."

"Oh, NO...is he…?"

"I don't know, Joan. Adam just said that he was very hurt."

"But what happened to him? A fall from a horse? An accident?"

"There was a fight in the saloon."

"A fight? Henry? There must be a mistake. That's not possible; not Henry. Henry is not aggressive."

"According to Adam, there was a clash between him and Edmund."

"Edmund? Do I know this Edmund?"

"Yes, he works for us. Adam too him into the city."

"Benjamin, I want to go to the city, I want to go to Henry. I beg you, Benjamin."

"Yes, Joan, I'll take bring you to town."

Joan snatches her mantle of black velvet and the deep purple hat and gloves and goes out of the room, preceding Ben, who closes the door behind him. He puts his hand on her waist and leads her slowly down the corridor that leads to the staircase. She puts her head on his shoulder, showing him that she needs comfort and consolation. He faces her and takes her in his arms. Tears start rolling down on her face.

"Come, let's go. We have a long trip ahead of us, and Adam said it's very serious."

Joan takes from her pocket a delicate handkerchief of white cotton and dabs her red eyes. At the bottom of staircase, Ben meets the gaze of his sons. Joe comes up and takes Joan in his arms before kissing her on the cheek.

"Joan, don't forget that we're here for you."

"Thank you, Joe. Thank you for being here."

"I'll stay here with Adam."

At these words, Adam stands up. "No, Joe, I'll go to the city. I must speak to Roy."

"Adam," Ben says, "Is that wise?"

"Pa, I'm not hurt; everything is fine. I've decided. I'm coming with you."

"Well, I won't argue, son. Hoss, will you harness the buggy? Who's riding with Joan and me? Adam? Joe?"

"No, Pa; we'll go on horseback."

" Go slowly, boys, don't be hasty. The storm has soaked the road; we don't need another accident right now."

"Yes, sir."

"Adam are you sure you..."

"PA!"

"Sorry, Adam, I believe you. I'll let you go."

Hoss, Joe, and Adam gallop through the drenched air, soaked with fog and of rain. All three have seen to the buggy that now takes Ben and Joan towards Virginia City. Joan shakes her hands and puts her gloves up to her wide-brimmed hat; it isn't raining anymore, but the air is fresh and it stings their shining cheeks. A crowd of thoughts mixes in Joan's head: the last weeks of her life...everything is moving so fast, she doesn't understand what's happening. Henry is injured. Is this the tragic end of their marriage?

"Ben, just say to me that we'll get there in time."

"I can't promise you that, Joan. It's not up to me."

"I want to speak to him. I hope I have some time."

"You can only pray."

And Joan raises her hands and raises his look skyward; her little voice solemnly and sincerely murmurs, "Oh Big Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind, whose breath gives life to all world, hear my request. I am your child of light. I need the strength of your love to penetrate the deception and dispel the darkness which confuses my mind. Give me wisdom so my eyes and my heart will truly see the man with whom I joined my life. I ask for the strength to fight and prevail against a terrible enemy: doubt. Make my hands an instrument of healing to push away the death of the one to whom I belong, so we can speak together and clarify our goals. And if you want to take him, grant us the time to see one another, give us the time to speak to each other, so that we can at least part serenely."

She has at this moment such dignity; she speaks with so much force and courage. Ben imagines the communion which she shares with this Big Mind, about whom she speaks with such deep feeling. This is something he understands, since he's also in the habit of making requests of the Most High. He hopes that Joan will be heard; he did the same when Marie struggled against death. He knows that he was not heard, or at least not answered in the way he had hoped; but he also knows that he had the time to hold her to himself, they had the time to tell each other goodbye. He could at least embrace her last time before death took away her last smile forever. He dares to hope that Joan will have the same chance if Henry doesn't recover from his wounds. Oh, yes; they must arrive in time.

Time always seems to stretch out a long time when urgency is felt. The buggy goes slowly, Joan sees each branch pass slowly by, branch after branch...

"We're almost there, Joan. We have a few more miles, another forty minutes and you'll be with him."

"Thank you, Benjamin."

"I'm also impatient to get there. I need to understand what took place. This man who pulled a knife owes us an explanation; he worked for me."

Finally Ben stops the horses in front of the saloon. A crowd of curious onlookers is gathered in front of the saloon. News travels very quickly here, as everywhere. And the announcement of the fight in the saloon and an injured man attract the inhabitants of Virginia City, who welcome any news out of the commonplace. Hoss moves people away. "You have nothing else to do?"

Joan undoes the hook of her mantle and gives it to Joe. She rushes to the end of the room. Henry is lying on a table.

"Doctor, how is he?"

"He lost a tremendous number of blood. But he is still with us."

"Oh, thank you, Doctor." She embraces him thankfully and puts her hand on the arm of her spouse. Henry does not react. " He is so pale."

"That's because of the loss of blood. At the moment he is stabilized; I was able to stop the hemorrhage, but he's very weak. And I don't rule out the possibility of infection. His future recovery is doubly in jeopardy."

Joan takes in the words of the doctor; tears run slowly down her cheeks, and she doesn't take her eyes off her spouse. She touches his face tenderly. "May I be alone with him?"

"Of course, Mrs. Dexter."

The men leave the room, and Ben draws the curtain which separates the main room of the backroom where Paul went with the injured man, preserving him from looks of the curious, who may still be numerous outdoors.

"Hoss, Joe, make them go, or I'll be very furious. Oh, no, I'll go out with you; I must speak to Roy." But now the street is almost empty.

"Pa, I'm sure they'll come back," says Joe. "They cannot help gawking at such scenes."

"Pshaw, watching the death of another must reassure them about their own fate. It's not their turn yet."

"Yes, but their turn will come."

"Yes, Joe; we'll all cross that river."

"As late as possible, I hope."

"This, Joe, is something only God can say. We must try hard to live well every day, since no one knows if it will be his last. And the most important thing, boys, is never to forget to say to those you love that they are loved. Afterwards it's much too late. The important thing is to speak those words to each other."

"Do you think Joan will have enough time with Henry?"

"I hope so."

"What do you think?" Hoss asks. "Will Henry be all right?"

"I don't know, Hoss. I'd like to believe it, but his wound is very serious. Too serious, perhaps. Right now the important thing is to find out the truth about what took place. I have an idea that we'll soon know the truth about what happened."

Adam says, "You know, Pa, I already understand quite a lot of things. Edmund Marchildon had something that belonged to Henry or to Henry's mother. I have an idea that he went to the Dexters' ranch, and apparently not to have tea."

"You're undoubtedly right, Adam."

They're arrivng now at Roys office. "Good morning, Roy," says Ben.

"Oh, good morning, Ben, good morning, guys. Adam, are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes, Sheriff."

"Ben, you saw Henry Dexter. How is he?"

"Still between life and death, perhaps closer to death than to life."

"I've questioned Marchildon. What he says isn't clear."

"What did he say, Roy? And did he say anything about the bracelet?"

"The bracelet? Oh, I didn't ask him."

Adam said, "I saw Henry's face when he saw what had fallen from Marchildon's pocket. Marchildon was at Henry's Dexter's, I'm sure," says Adam.

In the saloon, Joan puts her head down on Henry's chest. She cries softly, she fondles his hand. She would like to be closer to him, to give him a little of her life. She murmurs soft words in his ear. Does he even hear her? Do her words reach him? He already seems so far away. Is he still alive? He's struggling against fever, against infection, struggling in silence, alone…an internal struggle. Or has he abandoned the fight, and does he wait on the steps of the door of his Creator?

"Doctor, Doctor, come quickly; he's waking up!"

Joan rushes to the curtain as soon as she senses movement in Henry's hand, as soon as the fingers of the injured man twitch.

Paul arrives and takes the pulse of his patient...examine his pupils...listens to his breathing...

"It really does seems that he's waking up. The laudanum's effect is wearing off."

"What are you going to do, Doctor?"

"It depends on him. If he fidgets, he risks opening the wound again, and I'll be obliged to put him back to sleep. Let's see if he hears us. Mr. Dexter, Mr. Dexter; do you hear me?" No answer, but a small head motion. Henry opens his eyes, tries to move his head, his fingers...

"Slowly, Mr. Dexter. Don't move! Do you feel pain?"

"Drink," he says in a small voice.

"Not now, sir." Paul dampens a cloth and hands it to Joan.

"May I?" she asks.

"Yes, wet his lips."

Tenderly Joan does what the doctor recommendeds. Henry his hand on Joan's right hand, the one on which shines the ring.

"Yes," she says, "it is me. Remain calm, my dear, you'll be fine. You should not fidget.

Henry gasps, "The bra-brace-brace…huh…March…he had the bra..." He does not end his sentence. He has to give up speaking' the slightest effort tires him.

Paul says, "It will be necessary to replace the blood he's lost. Without that, he won't be able to recover. I'm going to try to give it to him."

"You can do this, Doctor?" Joan asks him.

"Yes, it's possible. It's been proven that an animal weakened by a loss of blood can be revived by an injection of blood. Therefore it's possible to envision the same thing for a human being. We know now that blood transports something necessary for life: oxygen."

"And this is going to save my husband?"

"Joan, you must know that what I'm going to do is not without risk. Your husband could die. We can't explain it, but some patients recover and others die. So a French doctor saved a young boy about fifteen years old, consumed by a fever. He injected into him nine ounces of lamb's arterial blood. The patient, according to the story, recovered immediately and completely

.

Paul prepares his equipment...

In the Sheriff's office…

Time seems suspended. They all hear than the rattle of the clock as it ticks the seconds. Adam, near the window, stares at the end of his boots and glances from time to time towards the closed door which separates him from Marchildon. Ben Cartwright is sitting in front of Roy and his deputy. On the table lies the knife which nobody has washed, the bracelet and a few dollars.

"That's what he had in his pockets," says Dave.

"Nothing else, no paper, no notes?" Ben asks.

"No Ben, what did you hope?" asks Roy.

"A letter, just a scrawled word to compare to the writing of the letter that came with the certificate Joan received."

"What are you thinking, Pa?" asks Joe.

"Joe, I have an idea that Edmund played a role in this affair, long before planting his knife in Henry's belly. I've thought a lot about it, and I'm sure of it. Roy, may I speak to him?"

"Yes, Ben, you're his employer. Leave your gun here."

"Yes, I'm his employer, all right. I'm the employer of a murderer, perhaps of a forger and a double murderer. Hard to accept."

"Pa, don't blame yourself," Adam adds. "In that case, I'm also to blame. I'm the one who recruited him."

"Yes, Pa," Joe says. "Adam's right. Nobody could know. We only saw a hard worker."

Ben gets up, goes to his eldest son, and touches him the shoulder. Then he heads for the door. He puts down his hand on the handle, lowers it, opens it, and enters the room where two cells with heavy bars are in plain sight. The one on the left is empty; a brown cover is folded on the bed. Edmund occupies the one on the right. He sees Ben Cartwright coming in, and he gets up and puts his hand against the bars.

"Mr. Cartwright, the father, in person. I'd offer you a drink, but they've closed the door," he says with a loud laugh that Ben doesn't appreciate.

"Enough, be quiet. I have a question, and I want an answer. Can you write?"

"Yeah, do I have to write letters for you?"

"Shut up. You are going to write this: "I, Edmond Marchildon, declare that I am no longer in the service of Benjamin Cartwright." You will date and sign it." And Ben hands him a wooden pencil and a sheet of paper. "There is nothing to discuss." Ben gives him a dark look, blacker than the leather of his boots.

"I hope it will be legible," Edmund sneers.

"If it is not legible, you will begin again..."

Ben waits with arms crossed on his chest, his face hard, his lips pinched.

"Maybe you should go and look in on that poor guy."

"Don't talk about Mr. Dexter."

"He should have stayed at his table. He should have avoided trouble and the blade of the knife in my belt." While saying this, the monster mimes a poor guy being impaled on the blade of a knife.

But Ben turn his back, having taken the sheet of paper. Ben knows all too well that Edmund only wants to provoke him; he would like to see his boss lose his temper and hit him. But Ben is not like that. Even if he'd like to do it, he doesn't show it, relying on his inner strength and his superior wisdom. He won't stoop to laying a hand on this fellow who flouts him so. He asks, "Will you be so ironic when the judge condemns you?"

Suddenly Edmund blows up. "I'll beat you for that."

"Save your threats for the one who will put the rope around your neck."

In the saloon...

"It's over. I'm sorry, Joan. There's nothing more to do."

"Nooooo...Henry..." Joan collapses on the lifeless chest of her spouse. "I loved you so much..." Her voice ends in a long sob. She covers with tears the lifeless body of her husband. Regrets. Destroyed happiness, devastated happiness. The body there was not enough time to love; the body which she would like to hold to her. The lifeless body of the one who was loved. She remembers Henry's last words: "She sas never there for me; she had nettles instead of hands. I know that I asked for nothing; I didn't ask to be born. Is it too much to ask to be loved? Must I beg the woman who brought me into the world to love me? I needed to know that she loved me." And then this promise, murmured in his last breath: "I married nobody apart from you, and I did not kill my mother." The final confession of a man who was leaving life and who wanted to be cleared of any suspicion.

Paul carefully puts his instruments away. He reassures the man who has given blood to Henry, telling him that he's not responsible; this kind of complications happens very often. He asks for a glass water. Then he goes out, needing a change of air. He rubs his temples, suffering from a nagging headache, the result of the frantic non-stop of last moments. A furious outpouring of energy that ended futilely in the death of the patient. He tried everything, but the wound was too severe; and then this ultimate attempt to push back the specter of death. A poker risk, a deck or card which turned against him. His forehead throbs, exhaustion lurks, a a sharp pain burns his head. He throws an arm forward on the rail in front of the saloon, drops his head into his hands, and sees nothing more; valiantly, he attempts to dispel from his mind a thousand thoughts of shame, of sadness, of impotence.

In the Sheriff's office, Ben slaps the sheet of paper on the table; then, reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a crumpled square.

"Here, Sheriff, look; here are some words I made Edmund write, and here's the letter Joan received. Like they say, 'The criminal signs his own death sentence.' I can't accuse him of murder, not at the moment; but he's the author of this letter, no doubt. Look, the same tilt towards the left, the same badly formed letters, the same jerkiness. There's aggression in this writing, it's blatantly obvious."

"Yes, that's disturbing, Ben. It's the first link between our guy and the Dexter family."

"We'll have other links later, and we'll deliver them to the judge. The man who killed Mrs. Dexter is the same one who stabbed Henry."

The judge arrives in three days. He is told about Henry and Roy mentions Dave.

"What does he have to do with Henry Dexter?" asks Adam.

"My deputy, Larson Clark, firmly believes in Mr. Dexter's guilt. He thinks he's guilty of murdering his mother."

"His Mother? Let's go, then!" Adam exclaims.

Joe moves closer to his brother and confesses, "You know Adam, I had doubts, too. I say 'I had,' because it seems to me that poor Henry isn't going to attend anyone's trial. He'll be named as a victim, not as a witness."

"I'm the one who'll testify as a witness," agrees Adam, with a steely jaw and a smoldering look. "I'm the one who saw him collapse with a knife in his stomach."

"And Edmund doesn't show the least remorse," adds Joe.

"Anyway, this changes everything," Roy says. "Still, we've got the homicide of Mrs. Dexter to deal with."

"Sheriff, I trust the trial process," says Ben. "From now on, many things will be made clear. Wait a minute…what's going on out there, Hoss?"

"Two guys have just gone back into the saloon. I should go have a quick look." Hoss goes out of the office. "I'll come back."

Hoss skips three steps and takes long strides, quickly crossing the distance that separates the saloon from Roy Coffee's office. He immediately sizes up the stance of the doctor, and he goes up to him.

"Doctor, what's happening? It is Henry?"

Paul Martin nods his head in acquiescence. Hoss touches his shoulder and rushes inside the saloon. He pushes the curtain aside and stops in front of the table where Henry lies immobile, death already stiffening his body. Hoss goes to him, takes off his hat, and puts a hand on Joan's arm. She stands up and leans against the chest of the one she considers her brother.

"Joan, I'm sorry."

Joan doesn't need to hear any more. The arms of Hoss are a big consolation. This giant is the incarnation of Honaw, the animal totem of his tribe. She knows she is not alone; a Cartwright is with her here, and he'll be able to support her.

In the office of the Sheriff...

"Hoss hasn't come back," Ben says. "Something must have happened." He looks at the door his son closed behind him. "I think, we should go to the saloon."

Adam unfolds his arms and heads for the door, followed by his brother and father. They go out and run towards the saloon. Pushing open the swinging doors, they rush to Joan. Slowly, Ben goes up to her. Joan is leaning on her husband; their hands are joined in a final caress. Ben goes to her, raises his hand slowly, and puts it on her shoulder. She does not react, completely submerged in sorrow. He presses lightly on her shoulder and turns her to him. With infinite tenderness, he moves her aside from the body of her husband and takes her a bit out of the way, enveloping her in his arms so that her tears fall on his shirt. Hoss is on a chair; his head is buried in his big hands. Adam comes forward, hat in hand, and he goes to the body lying on the table. Joe follows him. They will help Hank Patterson, the gravedigger.

In Virginia City...

Henry has been put in a coffin of pine. Joe and Hoss assist Ned with this. Henry has no family here, and apart from Cartwright, no friends. Now the deceased rests in the funeral parlor of Ned Patterson. All the Cartwright family sleeps in the Grand Hotel, where Ben has reserved rooms for himelf, his sons, and Joan. Joan sleeps deeply tonight, as Paul gave her a sedative. He said that although he hesitated giving her something so strong, he feared that she would collapse without it.

Edmund does not sleep; he paces up and down in his cell. His meal is still there; he did not touch it. The meat seemed appetizing, but he ate nothing, not even any bread. He barely drank a little water, dipping his lips into the ladle that Dave left at his disposal. Edmund is disturbed by this attention: a meal, some water. He supposes they want to keep him in good health up to the time of the trial. Well, this has better end fast. Nobody is going to come to open these iron bars, nobody is going to take him out of his cage. But of course, the sheriff did not leave him his belt. Sheriff Coffee wouldn't let him take that way out. Some prisoners will do anything to avoid justice. Edmund didn't succeed in running away, stopped by the bullet that was put in his leg by that scum, Cartwright. The doctor even took the time to clean Edmund's calf, scratched by the bullet.

Empty walls in front of him, grubby walls. In a corner, tiny marks, made in groups of five by some long-ago convicted prisoner. In the other corner, a hole, a latrine for the prisoner to relieve himself.

Relief comes from a memory: a memory of a kid who ran after birds in the courtyard of a building. A misfit, from what he remembers of his childhood, dreamt of later. He would have liked to sail, to go up the Saint-Laurent in a small boat. And then make his life with a wild girl on the bank, one of these small girls with legs chafed by undergrowth, arms reddened by plunging them into the fresh water of the river in search of frogs. He had crossed paths with some of those girls, he had climbed trees with the most audacious, and he had managed to draw some of them into his mysterious den: a huge boxwood shelter made by branches on the soil, known only to him. He had hidden there so many times to avoid the anger of his father, he had hidden in from it his troubles, his nightmares, his childlike grief, his ghosts, his anxiety. From the "bogeyman" he was so afraid of. His grandmother had told him stories of this ugly character, who was used to frighten children who refused to go to lie down. And Edmund had been afraid of the night for a long time. And who knows…today he might still be afraid.

The night is long for those who do not sleep. Fortunately, his memories are legion, and they keep him company.

And then comes the light, the blushing light of the stove. Roy crumpled three sheets of newspaper and stuffs them into the blackened door of the stove which sits throne-like in the corner of the office, in front of the cell. Edmund sees the back of the sheriff, who is squatting to throw some small wood into the stove. With a crack of the match, a light flares; a fragile flame rises at the end of the sheriff's hand.

"Oh, shoot, this fire is impossible."

"Hey, Sheriff, I'm dying of cold. Maybe I can help you with that."

"Sure, that's right. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Oh, but I have no intention of fooling you."

"Don't count on me to get you out of there. You'll get out just to hear the sentence after your trial."

"Trial, trial, these are just word in your mouth"

Angrily, Roy closes the door on the chattering of Marchildon and relights his fire easily, without caring about the one who can freeze in his cell. Let him. As long as he's silent; just be silent. But no, now he's playing the drum against his bars. Roy pretends not to hear, but he can't stand it. At the end of his rope, he pushes the door open with a crash.

"Will you stop it already? You've decided to drive me crazy me this morning?"

"And my coffee? I still have the right to a cup of coffee?"

"It's not time."

"How is it not time? What's wrong with having some coffee now?"

"That's the way it is. I don't plan to give you any special treatment. I won't cater to you, oh, no. And I'm telling you not to make more noise, or I will knock you in the head and put you to sleep."

"Oh, no, you won't."

In the hotel room at 7.25 a.m., Joan moves slowly. She moves her head on the pillow from left to right. She wails softly, "Henry, Henry..." Then her breath becomes regular, her agitation ceases, and sleep reclaims her.

"Pa, you think she cries in her sleep?"

"I don't know, Hoss. Even if she does, I hope she won't wake up soon. She has to sleep as much as possible; today and the next several days are going to be so hard. In the afternoon is Henry's funeral, and the day after tomorrow the trial..."

"You think she'll hold up, Pa?"

"I don't know at all, not at all. I can't say."

"Pa, I can't stop thinking of Mama. It's a bit like it, you know. An unhappy meeting, a place where you shouldn't have been."

"Humph, I suppose."

"But tell me, Pa, did you have any desire to die afterwards…after that?"

"I think that shock annihilated every other emotion I could have felt. And then it was necessary to take care of you, to find you a wetnurse, and then to go on, to continue living for Adam, for your mother, and at all costs to pursue this dream which burned in me."

"You found her right away, this nurse?"

"Yes, in a convoy of pilgrims. Some arrived behind us; they'd gotten wind of the risk of attack by the Indians, and they tried to by-pass the Rockies, but unsuccessfully. Then they turned around and joined us. And it was Mrs. Peckamon who fed you at the same time as her small daughter Louisa. She fed you for twelve months."

"And afterwards?"

"Mrs. Peckamon died from typhoid fever on the way."

"And the baby Louisa?"

"Dead also. I feared for your life, but you survived the fever."

"How?"

"I really don't know. I think I prayed a lot whenever I held you against me, hugging you against my skin. I made you drink some herbal tea made of willow and bourache flowers. Finally your fever broke, and we could be on our way."

The conversation between Ben and his son is full of emotion; they murmur well into the quiet wee hours. Ben supports himself against the board at the foot of the bed, while Hoss is sitting down on the floor, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. They recall painful memories, and Ben sees in the eyes of Hoss Cartwright the admiration and tenderness which he has for his father.

"You know, Pa, sometimes I wonder how you managed such an adventure. I've talked to Adam about it a lot, and it's hard for us to understand."

"Chance smiles at the audacious, son."

"Stop, Pa; you know those are just modest words. Why don't you just admit that you achieved something incredible?"

"But son, what I did, others have done before. And others did after."

"Yes, but many people have done it. And especially alone with two children."

"But I wasn't alone!"

"What are you saying?"

"I was with the Most High, I asked him for help constantly when you were sick. I asked him to give me the strength to go to the end and to keep you and your brother in good health."

"And you asked when mom was killed?"

"Yes, more than ever. I asked him to dispel the anger of my heart. I would have gone mad with that much anger in me, and the Lord helped me to get it out. Actually, more precisely, he enabled me to transform this anger into a nourishing strength. I was told that I had to follow my dream, to go build this haven of peace where no more of my family would be killed. I wanted this sanctuary to shelter myself from madness and from nastiness. This sanctuary, it is the Ponderosa."

"I know, Pa. But even after that, Marie died..."

"Yes, but I succeeded in moving away my family away from the Indian danger. I went to the Indian councils, I gave them help and assistance, and their friendship is precious to me. Marie died from an accident; no one is sheltered from misfortune or accident. Making your family secure doesn't mean eliminating all risks. Even food is one of the biggest risks which is taken, and even our mothers give us risk by giving us life."

"Yes, Pa. Adam was the one who suffered most from Inger's death. Say, Pa, you remember how Jamie's father bore a grudge against him, for making his mother die?"

"Yes, and that was a big mistake. No child asks to be born, and no child could be responsible for the death of his mother. John harmed Jamie."

"You never felt that way towards Adam?"

"No, never. I was devastated when his mother died, but I grabbed hold of life. And life, it was Adam, and it was you."

"And why it was it differrent after Marie's death?"

"I don't know, Hoss. I know you'll criticize me for this. I know I wasn't at my best then."

"Shh, then let's not talk about it anymore, Pa. Hey, look; I think Joan's waking up."

"Perhaps we spoke too loud."

Ben goes up to the bed and takes Joan's hand in his. She awakens slowly and opens her eyes.

"Joan."

She rubs her eyes and tries to sit up. Ben put his hand on her back. "Slowly, Joan. Let me help you." She sits up against her pillow. "Do you want anything? A little water?"

"Yes, Benjamin, I want..."

"Here, Hoss, give me a water glass."

"Yes, Pa."

She lifts the half-filled glass to her lips. "Thank you."

"How do you feel?"

"All right, yes. I didn't wake up all night...but sleep didn't take away the pictures I have in the head. And sleep didn't bring back my husband."

"No, of course. I know. Nothing I can say can lessen your trouble. Still, don't forget that my sons and I are here for you." Saying this, Ben puts his hand on the arm of the young woman. "You have to eat a little. Paul said that you could have breakfast. Do you feel well? You aren't having dizzy spells?"

"No, just a bit tired."

"I think that's an effect of the laudanum. You're going to have breakfast in bed; Hoss, go get a tray. And see if your brothers are awake. One of you will have to go back to Ponderosa; Hop Sing should know what's happening before he decides to go off. And then you'll need to bring back some clothes and other things for us."

"All right, Pa. I'll go."

"Thank you, son."

Hoss goes out of the room. Joan pushes back the bedspread; she wants to get up.

"Slowly, Joan. I said you can have breakfast in bed."

"No, Ben, I am going to get up. Can you give me my ankle boots?"

Ben puts one knee on the floor and slips Joan's foot into the leather shoe; it's a delicate foot, covered with a long black petticoat. Joan hastens to drop the bottom of her dress to hide her ankles as soon as Ben finishes fastening the second ankle boot.

"Thank you, Benjamin."

She touches his arm, looks at it tenderly, and pauses a moment before bursting into sobs. Her shoulders tremble, she hides her pretty black eyes in her fine hands which tremble too much. Ben makes her sit down on the chair and he gives a water glass.

"Shall I call for Paul?"

"No, Ben, I will be fine. I want no more sedative. To sleep would be of no use, if it's only to wake up two hours later with the same pain. I prefer trying to be strong."

Two hours later, on the road, Hoss gallops across the plain. Forty minutes have passed since he left Virginia City. It's a cool morning, misty with rain, like the mist of sad hearts, of hurt hearts. Hoss knows that he has to travel fast to get to the Ponderosa and bring back clothes for his father, his brothers and himself, and also for Joan. And then he must return by 4:00 p.m. to the graveyard for Henry's funeral. He isn't very far from the ranch, at most a few miles.

Suddenly he sees in the distance a cloud of dust and some smoke.

In Roy's office…

Roy enters the room, coming to take back the tray with the cup of black coffee.

Edmund grumbles, "I would have preferred a pie and ferlouche, but this was edible."

"What? I don't understand what you just said."

"Well, you have never eaten ferlouches, dry grapes."

"I've got other things on mind than pies and cakes. The man you stabbed didn't survive. That means you'll be tried murder."

"Serves him right."

"Shut up, you're disgusting. A bit of advice, old friend, don't be disrespectful to Mrs. Dexter, or you'll be dealing with me, is that clear?"

Roy Coffee has, at this moment, a very angry face. He's is a patient guy who treats each individual with respect, but he feels a deep pain from all this trouble. He's impatient for justice to be returned. Any crime is hideous, but this one is truly horrible: first the murder of a respectable, elderly lady, then that of a lawyer without notoriety, a man nobody had the slightest enmity against. And a man without wealth.

On the road, Hoss sees a wagon driven by two people. The wagon is a kind of wooden cariole, with wooden walls painted red and two small green windows, one on each side. It's drawn by two splendid horses with chocolate coats. They're powerful animals with broad chests and thick, strong legs. Animals taught to tow heavy loads, animals who render proud service to their master. From this cloud of dust, from which appears this strange load, a voices break the silence.

"If only I had listened to my mother and not married you! That day, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I would have better off breaking a leg."

"Shut up, woman; it's a wonder your mother did not have fainted when she first saw you. You'd make the milk go sour just by looking at it. I think you have moldy jackal blood running through your veins."

"Oh-ho, the mister tries to be witty. But if I'm also awful, why did you marry me? Needless to say, you didn't spit on my daddy's money."

"Well, it sure wasn't your smile that made me choose you, you old..."

At this moment, one of the two people sees Hoss. The lady cries, "Mister, you hear how this piece of rubbish, this faker dares to speak to me, and you don't step in? Mister, I don't think much of you!"

"What? Uh, sorry, but…"

"Yes, my mother was so right when she told me men have gall her; you have everything in your mouths, nothing in your trousers!"

Three hundred pounds of Hoss mean nothing here. He is practically melting from shock, dumbfounded by what he's just heard. An extremely violent scene between two married people, and such language!

"Mister," says the man, "I ask you to excuse us. But she went too far over the line; we're going to lose money because of this, this witch. Nobody wants to buy anything."

"So I'm a witch? I'm going to make you eat the horses' reins, you drunk, you triple- concentrated solution of buffalo tripe..."

"Yes, exactly. You're a witch."

"I forbid you to call me that, you old codger."

Hoss shakes his head, absolutely flabbergasted by what he hears. How so people who are so nice-looking hurl such monstrosities? "Listen," he says, "I don't want to get involved in your affairs, but it looks like something's happened between you. But I don't have time—or any desire—to bet mixed up in it. So please excuse me, Mr…?"

"Vernon, Vernon Tamplewood." Turning to his wife, he adds, "My dear Petunia, I fear that we appall this gentleman."

"Oh yes, Vernon. Then let us show the mister who we are, and..."

"To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler to suffer

the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

and by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep,

to dream no more..."

"Stop, stop, stop! I don't know who you are; I don't know what you're playing. But I know one thing, a very dear friend is grieving, and I have to get back there fast to support her. Now, stop your gobbledygook and let me leave."

"Wait, you can't go just like that. Let us give you something."

"Not necess..."

But Hoss has no time to finish his sentence. The man has already sprung down from his cart and rushes to the back. He returns with several bulky pieces of bric-à-brac; a load of boxes of different sizes and different shapes, behind which he practically disappears.

"What do you want?" he asks. "I have here the carpet of Shéhérazade, the authentic knob of Arsène's sword..."

"Psst, Vernon, it's not Arsène, it's Arthur..."

"Oh, yes, I get that wrong every time. That's true. But, I'm sure of this: here is THE true flute acquired directly from the city of Hamelin. I also have the violin of Antonio Stradivari..."

"Now there you've gone too far, mister. Don't think I don't know something about violins, just because I might look like a dummy. I had a violin once. It was given to me on account of me being a great maestro, and because of my musical genius. I'm telling you, your junk doesn't interest me. Now you just repack your stuff, your things, your so-called treasures and you get away from me." With a ton of restraint, Hoss dumps everything back in the other man's arms, and leaves him, horrified with the bundle that quickly falls out of his hands.

"Now, goodbye, go sell your monkey-wares at other houses, and drop me from the bunch." Hoss takes the reins of the wagon and slaps the horses. "Ya, ya, git on there!"

Then he calms down, realizing he's mistreating the horses by pulling on their reins. These poor animals did nothing to him. Besides, incredibly, he's postponed his mission; and he should have let these two tag along to the Ponderosa to inform Hop Sing. The two would have been useful in carrying the luggage he wants to bring back, even though Joan told him just to bring back her black dress.

Joan walks slowly in the big field behind the hotel. She passes between grasses, and she brushes them with her fingertips, her eyes gazing into space. She moves away from the man who waits for her near the tree from which hangs a swing. He is leaning against the trunk with his arms folded. He's the one who asked her to go out for a bit, having had breakfast. The day is nice, the sun shines in the sky, and that is a small consolation. Henry will be buried under the nice sun, and Joan knows in the depths of herself that the warmth of the rays of that familiar star will be nice on her. She feels protected in this field, her feet anchored in the soil, in harmony with the sky and the earth. And she in the center, in the center of painful test, but one which she does not pass through alone. She holds huge armfuls of white and yellow daisies and asters that she'll take to adorn Henry's grave. She has slid into her pocket some of the white and grey pebbles she's picked up. Now she raises the bottom of her skirt and heads towards Ben, first walking, and then she starts to run. She wants to feel the wind of the Big Mind blowing in her hair, which she's undone and fastened with a leather lace to hold it out of her face. But this is nothing; a mere compromise between two worlds; she cannot practice the rituals which her people transmitted to her, and furthermore, her husband was not a Païute. Here, far from the Paîute place of her childhood, she'll have to create a funeral ritual that will allow him to live in peace. They won't allow her to watch over the body of her husband four four days. Well, it doesn't much matter, she'll watch four days over the grave anyway. She didn't cut her hair; no woman in Virginia City would have understood and accepted that custom. She doesn't want to draw attention, she wants to honor the upright man she married, to hold to her commitment to him by standing proudly in the place he gave her: on the edge of two worlds.

Suddenly her running is stopped by a dazzling pain in her body; she stops running and falls on the ground.

"JOAN!"

Ben rushes to her. Cautiously, he raises her and supports her against him. She is unconscious. He strokes her face, speaking softly, and pats her cheeks, but nothing happens. She does not come back to him. He stands up, carrying the young woman in his arms, and the hill behind the first houses of Virginia City go by quickly as he drives her to his friend's Paul's. There's a chance, he'll still be there.

"Doctor, Doctor, quickly; it's Joan!"

"Here, come indoors."

Ben enters the home and deposits Joan on the examining table that Paul has installed in one of the rooms of his dwelling place. Paul finishes rinsing his hands in a bowl, wipes them carefully, snatches his bag, and comes to the bedside of the young woman. "Stay outside, Ben, I'll call you as soon as I'm finished."

Ben complies, taking care to draw the curtain behind him. He sits down on a chair and begins twisting his hat between his hands. He is anxious, sad and anxious.

At the Ponderosa…

"Hop Sing, Hop Sing you are there?"

"Mistel Cartlight is thele. And is yelling befole explaining why family not hele."

"Yes, exactly. I'm here. Pa is in the city, something serious has happened."

"Oh, no, Mistel Hoss not announce bad news. Yes?"

"Hop Sing, I'm sorry...But Henry, Joan's husband, has died.

"Died? But how?"

"He was stabbed."

"Stabbed? But what horror! Who could do something like that?"

"It was one of our men. Marchildon, the guy Adam has recruited recently."

"Oh, no! Hop Sing hopes he will be punished."

"The trial will be the day after tomorrow. I have to go back to the city, but I need to bring back clothes for Pa and Joan."

"Hop Sing will help. Hop Sing wants to be with Mrs. Joan to comfort her."

"Thank you, Hop Sing. Hold on, I'll go up to look for what they'll need and get it down here. No need for you to come along. And I hope we won't run into a couple of strange birds I met earlier."

"Who? Some robbers?"

"No, I'll explain it to you on the way."

Hoss rushes to the second floor; he goes from room to room, snatching four shirts, some ties, and dark jackets. Although being a bit embarrassed, he enters Joan's room. He opens the wardrobe and takes down the black dress; it's very simple, smalled in size, and he drapes it over his arm. He goes back down to join Hop Sing in the yard. Then, changing mind, he turns around, leaving his load momentarily on the Chesterfield and running back up the staircase hastily. He opens the door of his father's room and the drawer of the night table. He takes out of it a well-used Bible, and put it in the pocket of his jacket. Surely his father will be grateful to him.

It's time to set off again. At this hour, he's certainly ready to go to the table for the midday meal, and he knows Joan will eat little. At least she's not alone. She has his pa, who knows the pain of a fifty-year-old man who's had his lot of misfortune, who's survived much sadness. Who knows the worst and who won't run away from the tears of a woman, and who isn't ashamed to shed his own.

On the way, not far from the ranch, Hoss says, "Oh, no, Hop Sing, we have to turn around."

"What? Why?"

"We have to tell the kid. Argh! Darnburnit, I knew I'd forgotten something." Hoss makes a U-turn with the horses and goes back in the opposite direction.

"But why?"

"Pa wouldn't want me to leave him alone. I believe I understood that he wanted to keep an eye on him, to keep him away from bad temptations. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, Hop Sing understand. But Hop Sing says that young kid in city is going to go to the saloon. Bad temptations are in city."

"Yeah, I have to admit that it's maybe not a good idea."

"Hop Sing always is right when not wrong."

Hoss looks at the Ponderosa's servant and gives him a shove on the shoulder. "Modesty sure don't make you shy."

"Hey, Hop Sing not be big, so Hop Sing compensate with smart mind. Little man but big mind."

"Yeah...I've heard that quality overcomes quantity."

Back at the ranch...

"Corvet? Corvet, are you there? Corvet, answer me!"

Hoss pushes open the door of the barn, has a quick look in the stalls. Nobody is there. "Cooooorvet? Oh, are you there?"

Hoss is about to come out, when a noise draws his attention. Surely there is somebody or something in the barn. Hoss takes a ladder and leans it against one of the beams that supports the floor, which is spread with hay for the animals. Hoss goes three steps up, raises his head, and sweeps his gaze over the dark space lighted by the cracks between boards.

He is now on the floor of the loft. He advances with caution to the rear. Now he identifies the type of noise; these are squeaks. He still approaches and to discover what makes them.

"Mistel Hoss, where are you?"

"Above, in the loft. There a small female cat who's just had a litter. There are three kittens here, and they're cute as anything. There's a black and white and two horse-chestnuts. They're funny..."

"Hop Sing not have seen young boy."

"Did you speak to him this morning?"

"Yes, he has taken breakfast."

"How was he?"

"Not happy."

"If he had been, it would have surprised me, considering the list Pa left him. Okay, the barn is clean, so that proves he's doing his work."

Hoss goes back down and puts the ladder back in its place. He pats his trousers to knock away the dust and the dirt of the barn, and goes off with Hop Sing on his heels. Maybe the kid is over there. Hoss goes around the ranch and heads with a quick step for the bunkhouse that the Cartwrigtht hired hands share, whether they're seasonal or employed for longer periods. But he turns around. There's somebody in the ranch house. Hoss makes a sign to Hop Sing: "Psst, let's go around to the kitchen. I'm going in there."

Hoss lays his hand on the belt and takes the Colt. He leans over and pushes the door.

"Come out, hands in the air!"

Hoss waits two seconds.

"ONE…TWO…"

"All right, don' shoot!"

"Corvet, is that you?"

"Yes, I'm coming out."

Hoss, recognizing the voice of the kid, replaces his Colt when suddenly a figure, moving like a bolt of lightning, bursts out of the house, shaking everything. "Everything" being a figure of speech, because Hoss Cartwright is not jostled.

"Damnation!" Hoss is quickly on the heels of the kid and catches him by the collar of his jacket. "Hey, kid, what were you doing?"

"But, nothing."

"You scamper away like you've got the devil behind you. You've done something bad, haven't you?"

"Uh, no..."

"Then tell me what you were doing in the house. What were you looking for? A pot of honey?"

"Humph, that's a strange thing to say. You know I didn't steal anything. I wanted..."

"You wanted what? Tell me, I don't have time for this."

"I wanted a pencil. Mine is broken."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No, Mr Hoss. I swear to you that…"

"Kids shouldn't swear. I believe you, now explain to me calmly."

"Well, in my free time, I really want to draw. But only when I finish working, I promise."

"Calm down, kid. I saw the barn, it's in top-notch shape. You've done good work." At the dumbfounded expression of the young worker, Hoss adds, "I'm serious, I've never seen such a clean barn. Even Joe has never done such a good job. Count on me to give put in a good word to my father."

"That's true, you're happy?"

"I'm telling you, young fellow. I bet even that you picked up the grass-stalks with pliers."

"Well, no, not really. Then you're not angry?"

"Of course not. You answered right away, that's what made me put my gun away. You did fine. Okay, you should'nt have gone out in such a panic."

"Well, I was afraid."

"I have an idea that you don't know how to act.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you need some help. It's not very clear where the lines are between what you can do and what you can't. It's always better to face up your responsibilities and tell the truth. So get this in your head if you want to keep working for us. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now we have to go."

"Where? And why?"

"You and me and Hop Sing; we're going into the city."

"I'd rather stay here."

"Oh, kid, I didn't ask you for your opinion. You're coming, and that's all." While saying to this, he jerks the kid up short; finally, Hoss has had his dose of trouble for the day. He always tries to be a big, strong, sensitive, patient, and good-natured fellow, a giant with a golden heart, but his patience has limits.

"All right, don't be angry. I'll come. I just said that to tease you. Anyway, besides the respect I owe you anyway, you're definitely your father's son."

"Oh, come on, kid." Hoss realizes he was wrongly angered, and his bad mood falls away immediately. "Yeah, you're lucky that the bad traits of my father have been spread among three sons. I'm the best of the family; my brother wouldn't be as patient as I am."

"Oh, no, I don't think your father has any bad traits. I think he's not grumpy, and he's a good man."

"Yes, you might say that. But Corvet, let's talk about your father. You told us the other day that he died. What happened?"

"Oh, an accident, he was under eighteen. A balconey fell him at the paladium. They asked my mother and me to identify the body; but it's hard to identify a mass of cowardly jelly."

Hoss gives Corvet another shake. "Hey, a little respect, young man. You realize you're speaking of your father."

"Yeah, maybe. Sorry. I didn't mean to babble."

"Well, pays a little more attention to your language. It doesn't matter. We're going now. No need to lag behind."

"Say, Mister Hoss, what are we doing in the city?"

"You'll see what my father's planned for this afternoon. In fact, wait, let me have a quick look; are you clean?"

"Yes, I think so."

"We'll buy a tie and a jacket for you in the city."

"A tie, what for?"

"Because we're going to a funeral this afternoon. You'll be able to keep still?"

"Well, yes, of course. I'n not four years old, I'm no kid."

"You'd better be right. And you'd better be interested in behaving. Otherwise Pa will cook your goose."

"Well, it won't be fun."

"What are you mumbling into your collar?"

"Uh, nothing, I said don't worry, I know what I have to do."

"Okay. Let's get going."

Hoss climbs onto the seat of the buggy, Hop Sing sits next to him, and Corvet heaves himself into the back."

"Hey, sonny, don't sit on the clothes, please. Push them aside a bit."

"Oops, sorry."

In Virginia City, Ben finds Adam and Joe in the dining room of the restaurant.

"Pa, there you are. We've just ordered a beer. You mind having one?"

"Yes, I want one."

Ben takes off his hat and jacket and sits on the chair which Adam points to.

"Isn't Joan coming to eat?" Adam asks.

"Joan's resting in the doctor's office. She fainted this morning."

"Fainted? How did that happen?" Adam asks.

"She thought she felt bad, so we went for a walk. She lost consciousness for a short instant."

"Well, Pa, what did the doctor say?" asks Joe.

"Paul was reassuring."

"But…?"

"Joan is expecting a baby."

Adam and Joe divert the faces. Their reaction is the same that the one that Ben had: shock, incredulity, and enormous sadness. How to be delighted with the news a future birth a few short hours after the death of Henry?

The waitress brings both beers on a tray. "Here's yours, Joe, and yours, Adam. Mister Cartwright, what will be it for you?"

"A glass of whisky, please."

"I'll bring it right away. Excuse my curiosity, but are you talking about Mrs. Dexter?"

"Yes, I was just with her. I count on you not to make this news known, Dorothy."

"Naturally, Mr. Cartwright. Poor woman, losing her husband so young. That's one of the greatest tests in this fallen world. I'm truly sorry for this nice woman. Well, enough silly chatter from me. What can I serve you gentlemen?"

"What's the specialty of the day?"

"I have rabbit stew for lunch."

"Then, let's have three specialties of the day."

"And Hoss, should I bring something for him, or will you wait?"

"No, I don't think that he'll arrive in time. He's gone home and will return. Put aside a plate for him."

Joe says, "Two rabbits then, that goes without saying."

"Joe." Adam gives an amused look to his younger brother, and neither of them can help laughing at the mention of the legendary appetite of their brother. Adam adds, "Don't forget, Dorothy, I like kidneys in my stew. Please put in five or six."

"Yes, Mr. Adam. Except I must remind you that my rabbits have only two kidneys. I'm not going to ask them to create more, you know."

"I know, dear Dorothy, I'm teasing you," answers Adam, catching her arm affectionately.

"Adam, you are an incorrigible scamp. You'd deserve it if I made you wash the dishes."

"But with pleasure, dear. Such pretty hands as yours shouldn't be bathed in greasy water."

"You go find me some clean water and let me go, you bad flatterer

Dorothy moves away. Ben throws an amused look to his eldest son. "You can't help playing the charmer, can you?"

"No," answers Adam as if he were a kid who's satisfied with his good joke.

"Okay, let's move on to important matters. What have you done this morning?"

"We've looked for mushrooms," answers Joe, lifting his beer to his mouth.

"Ah, very well, and you found some?"

"Yes, a lot. We gave them to the cook in the kitchen."

"And you're sure they're good?"

"Well, Pa, of course; what do you take us for? We don't intend to poison anyone."

"Oh, no? Oh, Joe, I remember a meal where we were all incapacitated."

"No, it couldn't have been because of me."

"Well , you don't remember. You were a little boy. You told us you wanted to help Hop Sing make us something to eat."

"And I made what?"

"Oh, you made us a salad of dandelions and chicken in mushrooms and…"

"And?"

"And we all were sick," Adam puts in. "Hop Sing spent the night cleaning and making us drink herbal tea he brewed from verbena. We were all deathly ill."

"But that's incredible. I remember nothing."

"But, Joe, you know well that the biggest stupid mistakes are always made by people who don't have the slightest memory of doing it."

"Please, boys," says Ben, "be polite."

"Ah, gentlemen, here are your very hot, very good dishes." Dorothy stands in front of the three Cartwrights with her arms full of steamng plates. "I'm pleased to see your delighted faces, sirs, but wait until you try it to tell me about it. Your taste buds are going to crackle, flounce, and flit about like butterflies. Good appetite, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Miss Dorothy," says Ben.

"Oh, Adam, look," says Joe. "Oh, do you see what I see?" Joe and Adam exchange a look of conspiracy. "Uh oh; I recognize this little mushroom. I picked it up myself, it was so cute; a little bit orange. Oh, so nice..."

"Yes, recently picked and quickly soon served," says Adam. "But tell me, dear Dorothy, how you achieved this little miracle."

"I sauted it fifteen minutes in a pan with a little salt and pepper, and afterwards I drowned it in wine. And with this wine, I made a pretty little brown sauce and dipped Mr. Roger Rabbit's thighs and hindquarters in it."

"Humph, stop, Miss Dorothy. I'm melting with desire."

"So eat already, before this gets very cold. And I want nothing left on your in plates."

In the doctor's office…

"Mrs. Dexter, what are you doing?"

"I feel better, I want to get up."

"Wait, no need to go yet. You should rest. You've had enough shocks; take some time to breathe, I beg you."

"I'm fine, doctor. You said yourself; it's nothing serious. I'm expecting a baby, I'm not sick.

"Yes, that's true. But you need rest, nevertheless. And you have to eat something. It's necessary to feed this baby adequately. You have a lot of courage, but you must promise me that you're going to look after yourself."

Joan twists her hands against her dress. She turns the back to the doctor after taking the time to straighten her skirt.

"You promise, then, madam?"

"Yes, doctor; I promise. After all, this child is the final present my dear husband gave me. And I fully intend to raise him up in memory of his daddy." Her last words are drowned in a sob. She has suddenly, violently realized her state of motherhood, now obvious to her, yet unknown by her till this morning.

"Doctor, I learn that I'm going to have a baby when I'm about to bury my husband. Why?"

Paul Martin extends a helping hand and puts his other hand down on the back of his patient.

"These are the big trials and pains of life. Now you must think of you and this baby. What do you intend to do?"

"I have no idea. At the moment, I must think of this afternoon's ceremony, then the trial which will begin soon. Only afterwards, I will think about all that."

"You are so right. Every day has enough trouble of its own."

"Yes, exactly. A person can only travel the distance which his feet will cover."

"Wise words, indeed. The sun will rise for you tomorrow, and you'll have plenty of time to take up each of the challenges which life will put on your road. So, since you can give such wise advice, don't be too demanding of yourself; look after yourself and go slowly. And also, don't forget that you can count on me, as well as on the Cartwrights."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Ben Cartwright is going to watch over you."

"Yes, yes, I don't doubt it. He's a good and sensitive man. I'm very fortunate to be his friend."

"Yes, he has a solid shoulder and he'll be always there for you."

"You, too; but by the way, is he still here?"

"No, he went to find his sons. I sent him there. Was I wrong?"

"No, he has already done so much for me."

"He said he would come to bring you your personal belongings, as soon as Hoss has brought them back. At the moment, we're going to take the time to eat these sandwiches. I didn't make anything else, since I didn't know how long you were going to sleep. You would have had to eat cold food, so I asked for a few slices of bread and a little meat. And I even found fruit: look."

"Oh, grapes!"

"And I also have nuts and cold figs. You're going to taste this for me, it's delightful. But I urge you to peel away the thin husk of the nuts, so they won't burn your mouth."

Later, as Ben and Joan part…

"Good night, dear Joan. Try to sleep. The day was long."

"Thank you, Benjamin. Thank you for being there."

"No, Joan, don't thank me."

Ben has eaten with Joan; he brought a meal for himself and Joan. The boys had a late dinner with Corvet in the dining room of the hotel. Joan didn't feel like going down to the restaurant, so Ben ordered a meal sent up, with a plate of soup and a piece of pie prepared with ham and cheese and cream.

"Benjamin, I want to thank you for what you said this afternoon. Your words touched me."

"Joan, I said it for you. I had good moments with your husband; we discussed a lot and he entrusted me with bits of his life, his doubts, his fright. I regret not knowing him more, and I regret that there is this painful story. Now that I know that the letter and certificate were forgeries, I'm ashamed to have doubted him."

"Don't say this, Benjamin. You were the first to open my eyes."

"Please, Joan, I still bear a grudge against myself enough for acting so..."

"Oh, Benjamin, stop feeling responsible. Henry and I were victims of an ugly plot. Someone has made so many people suffer, including you and your sons. And he has cost the life of two people. Please stop feeling guilty. You should not feel responsible; people full of hatred are part of life, just like the puma or the vulture."

"Joan, there are times when I wonder what material you are made of. You turn my head upside down; you give yourself up to anger from time to time, and then you show an outstanding peace. You are two people; you have the heart of a brave man and the fragility of an ewe lamb."

"Benjamin, I belong to two worlds, I'm the fruit of two cultures, of four influences. My father and the mother who birthed me gave me a past, a family, and a name; but my tribe forged me, molded me. I am a girl of the earth, but my roots are split in two."

"I dare to hope that you can say goodbye to the man of your life, as much as you wished for him.

"Yes, I believe I can. I don't know the prayers anymore that you recited. Undoubtedly I learned them once with my mother, but I have only vague memories of it, and they're only words."

"But did they bring you a bit of consolation?"

"Oh, yes, I believe they did. I liked the emphasis that you put on the passing between heaven and earth."

"Joan, do you remember the talk that we had regarding our respective beliefs? I appreciated every minute of it, and especially what you said regarding the surreal voice which draws away the souls of those who have left us."

"I believe the white men are closer to us than they want to admit. The possibility of these footbridges between your world and mine brings me much serenity. It proves that the man who allows himself to be moved by the music of world and nature is wise, and accepts strength and help. We must have another long discussion soon, Benjamin. I would so much like that."

"I would be able to stay awake long hours to listen to you speaking about your culture, about your beliefs. But I don't want to cut short your hours of sleep. You must rest and look after yourself. Think of your child."

"My child; yes., I have a feeling that I already love him."

"Oh, yes you're going to love him. You will be a tremendous mother, Joan, I know it. You are an exceptional person."

"Exceptional? Oh, I don't know. What I do know is that I am alone from here on out. Henry has walked with me along my way, but now he has definitely let go of my hand. And I must walk towards tomorrow alone, and it will be up to me to guide and to give confidence to this baby."

"And you will be perfectly capable, my dear. You are going to give him all your love and your sensitivity. You'll speak it of his father, and you'll raise him, you'll tell him about his father, and he'll surprise you by becoming him. He'll be a piece of its father and a piece of you, and a special, living proof that your love was nice. Only a nice love can procreate nice persons, and I know, having seen your love, that your child will be nice."

"You're right to say that, Benjamin. When i see your sons, I'm struck by their handsomeness and their charm. Oh you have to have liked each of your women, Benjamin."

"Oh, yes, I liked them. All three differently, but with the same force. And you know what, the first time my grief threatened to immerse me, Lorsque Inger entered my life, I was a young lost daddy, overwhelmed by the weight of what had come to me. She came to my side, slowly, tenderly, and she quietly established herself. First by her maternal nature, coming to Adam's bedside when he was very sick, then as a companion eager to share my dream. When she died, the pain hit me with a rare violence. Oh, I felt such pain. And to that grief was added the responsibility of another child, not yet weaned. I overcame my malaise for my boys, and I looked ahead. And then my last wife arrived, the mother of Joe. And she was taken away from me, too. But in spite of trouble, in spite of pain, in spite of the fact that I came to wonder if I'm not cursed, I keep my confidence in life. And if love wants to reenter into my life, I'll be ready to receive it. Should we be without love, I ask you?"

Joan, her back supported against the wallpaper of the corridor, quivers under the last words of this man who speaks so deeply of love.

"Benjamin, I have a grey-dark heart right now, but I feel like believing you. I dare to believe what you said. At the moment, I just feel pain, because my happiness has just been struck down. But I will keep in the bottom of my heart these nice words you just uttered."

"Don't forget, every breath of life is worth living, and the day will come when easier times will come to you. This life which inflicts on you such suffering will be made calm and appeasing another time. It's up to you to receive each of these times, to be in rhythm with what your heart tells you."

Ben, during all this time, does not drop her hand. He it to his lips and embraces her tenderly. Then he touches his lips to the cheek of the young woman.

"Good night, my beloved Joanie. I'll leave you here."

"Good night, Benjamin."

She caresses the side of his face, where his cheek touches the corner of his mouth. She gives him a kiss of…of affection? It's a kiss full of emotion, a confused kiss. Is it a kiss for attention, of thanks, of commitment? It doesn't much matter, he has an air of sincerity, of tenderness, and his is a benevolent kiss.

"Don't stay, Joan; go in and get some rest."

Nothing more. What more can be sought, forever? Oh, yes, nothing more is needed than a promise that this kiss would remain the following day. But discretion and decorum are two thick crimson curtains drawn on a stage where a love song is dedicated to inappropriateness and scandal. Their spring of feelings will have to wait.

Late in the afternoon, waiting for the trial…

"Hey, Corvett, are you coming?" says Hoss.

"Bah, yes. You go ahead, I'll come."

"Well, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Come on, tell me," Joe urges. Then he doubles over. "No, I don't believe this! Oh, nooooo! Oh, this is worth your weight in gold! Mr. Corvet, the king of rodeos, has had his trousers split by a miniature cow! Hahaha!" Joe is laughing so hard he's holding his sides and and crying. "Oh, oh, baby Corvet discovered the nice feeling that you get when you go flying."

"Yes, but apparently he's badly bumbled the landing," answers Adam.

"Have you have broken your bottom?" asks Hoss.

"Haha, very funny."

"Oh, don't be mad. It could happen to everybody. It's only hurt your pride," adds Hoss.

"Pride, I don't know about that; but for sure I won't be able to sit down for a long time."

"It's the first time you came across a stud bull?"

"No, but…"

"But you've never come across a young bull like that one, right?" concludes Joe.

"Well, yeah, I know what I got from him, thanks to this bloody idiot."

"Well, it looks like he tore over you and..." Hoss grins.

"Yeah, I get it, thank you Hoss."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, but I confess that this is mortifying..."

"You know what, kid, he had to snap, seeing you arriving with your small knot of red tie..."

"Pfffft, whatever."

"Well, if it's a baby bull, then he reacted to the very small ends of red," adds Joe.

"But it's true that our Corvet is very cute with his red knot," says Adam.

"Yeah, for a knot, it's a nice knot, and besides, it's the only thing that wasn't damaged," says Hoss.

"What?" says Corvet. "But..."

"Well, son, look at the back of your shirt. At least, if you can call it a shirt now."

"Oh, no. Your father, what is he going to say? He bought this shirt for me, for the ceremony, and now it's ruined!"

"Oh, don't worry about Pa," says Adam. "We'll explain to him that you had a bad encounter."

"Uh, no, Adam, that's not a good idea," says Hoss. "Pa might think that Corvet tagged alont to the saloon. And look at what happened the other day. Maybe we shouldn't push it."

"Oh, yes. Good thinking, Hoss."

"It sure would be a coincidence, first to be charged by a young bull, and then by a Taurus," replies Joe.

"So your father is a Taurus?"

"No, I don't think so. But if Pa believes you had a fight in saloon, you won't be called Corvet, but Carpet. I guess you know that's the best joke on the Ponderosa?"

"Pft, I don't know any such thing."

"There are dozens like it, as long as our father isn't around."

"Oho," comes a deep voice, "and are you the one to give this wise advice?"

"Ahem, you're here, Pa?"

"Yes. And obviously I've come at a good time."

"Pa, we're not serious, you know," says Hoss. "It's just a little humour..."

"That's right," says Joe. "Just a little humour."

"Of course, Joseph. And you, Corvet, what happened to you?"

"Well…that is…" In that moment, Corvet give Hoss a beseeching look. Hoss sends him a sympathic glance, encouraging him. "Mr. Cartwright, I'm sorry. Hoss, Adam, and Joe took me to see Ezekiel's stock, and there was a small bull who tore over to me..."

"That's what put you in this state?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright. I'm not proud of myself, forgive me. I've ruined the shirt you bought for me. I'll work to reimburse you for it."

"No, Corvet, the shirt it from me. This type of, humph, misfortunes can come to anybody."

"You said it, Pa," agrees Adam.

"Yes, Adam. This type of thing can happen to anyone, even experienced ranchers."

"Oh, yes, it sure can, Pa

*All right, in the meantime let's find something to cover your butt," says Ben. "Joe, can you give him a pair of your trousers?"

"Well, why me?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? Can you see our friend Corvet in Hoss's trousers? Come on."

Adam laughs. "We'd have to organise a search to find him. Oh, I can imagine the scene: hey, please, gentlemen, we're looking for a young boy, lost in the trousers of Hoss Cartwright." Adam shouts this to the rooftops as he turns to his brother.

"Haha, very funny."

"That's enough, Joe," says Ben. "Corvet will take your jeans and you will wear the trousers you have today. That'll do for court, and don't forget you'll be heard as a witness. I'm serious now, I gave in to your fun a second ago because you haven't had much chance for joking lately, but tomorrow, the serious things begin. I count on you boys."

"Mr. Cartwright, you think there's going to be a hanging?"

"Corvet, I am not a judge; we'll wait for the end of the trial. 'We' meaning the rest of us, because you'll be elsewhere."

Where will I be?"

"You'll need to do your chores in the city's livery stables."

Naturally, the kid looks crestfallen, and Ben adds, "We aren't on the Ponderosa, of course, but you have a punishment to be finished. You didn't forget, did you?"

"Yes, well, I know one person who doesn't forget."

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing. I forgot, of course."

"Boys, the hearing begins at eight; be on time. I'm leaving, now and you have some free time this evening. Corvet, you have to..."

"Yes, I know, I'll go back to the hotel."

"Okay, if that's what you want. No problem."

"No, no, no, Mr. Cartwright. I figured you were going to say this."

"How you can be so sure of what I'm going to say? Let's see. You're not a fortune teller, are you?"

"Well, no. Sorry."

"As I was saying, you have the right to go out, and that's the best way for me to be sure you won't do anything stupid. You boys keep both eyes on him. Joe, do I have your promise not to drink?"

"I want to have a clear mind when I face the judge, to answer all his questions."

"Joe, are you all right?" Drawing his son away from the others, Ben encircles him with his arms.

"You have nothing to fear, son, you'll say what you saw, nothing more."

"I know, Pa, but just the same, I'll feel better when everything's over."

"Think of Joan. Do you think she'll feel better then?" There's no trace of irritation in Ben's voice, just sadness and depression.

"I know, Pa, I know I shouldn't be saying this. I'm sorry."

"Forget it, Joe. Don't mention it. I believe I know how you feel. We'll all be there, and anyway, the judge will hear us."

"What?" says Hoss.

"Well, yes, Hoss. We're the only ones who knew Henry, and don't forget that I'm still the employer of Marchildon."

It is soon five o'clock; the day will soon break. Ben gets up. He needs more sleep, there's too much agitation in his head. The sun is going to shine on the plain, on the city, and into the room in which the trial will be held. And incidentally the sun will shine on Henry's grave and on Joan's trouble. But perhaps she'll have answers to all these questions, to this continuation of the drama. He wants to believe it, he has infinite faith in the justice of his country. Last night, he said his prayers with a special fervour, asking the Most High to watch over this exceptional woman who is going to face with dignity and courage a test that would shake the staunchest. He hopes to see her withstanding Marchildon's look, he hopes she'll dare to look back at him with her hands on her stomach to remind herself of the horrible reality of this crime which he committed: he killed the father of her child. Perhaps he'll laugh his loud laugh in his peculiar accents and the facial expressions nobody can understand except for him.

"Before these feminine eyes, I will return justice," Judge Buckler declares. "There is only the single God, but there will be several jurors. I call on the honour and the fidelity of each of you. Gentlemen, I am going to indicate four of you and you will come to sit on my right, after taking the oath."

Ben and his sons sit up attentatively; they already know that no one else will be indicated, since judge already told them they will all serve as witnesses. He told them this specifically, before the official opening session.

The man who has just pronounced these words is Edgar Buckler, big and dry, with grey hair and a carefully shaven face. He speaks with a slow and mannered voice which bears an authority which goes beyond his title and beyond his function. He takes a sheet of paper from his thick file and begins reading.

"Defendant, rise. Edmond Marchildon, you are accused of having wounded Henry Dexter fatally. Do you confess this crime of which you are accused?"

"I did not kill him. I defended myself. He struck me."

"Was he armed?"

Silence.

"Answer, Marchildon; was he armed?"

"No," he finally splutters.

"I call Adam Cartwright to the stand."

Adam gets up, puts his hat down on his chair, and comes forward. He is dressed in his business suit: a white shirt and black jacket which falls over striped grey-black trousers. He gives his father a quick look and walks toward the judge.

"Please state your identity."

"Adam Abel Stoddard Cartwright, born on May 23rd, 1830, in Boston."

"Do you swear to tell the whole truth? Raise your right hand and say, 'I swear it.'"

"I swear it."

"Good; how did you make the acquaintance of the defendant?"

"On our land; I engaged him. My father has had some worries regarding his health, so it's up to me to be responsible for recruiting men to cut some trees and to cart the trunks away."

"And therefore Mr. Marchildon came."

"Yes, with other men. He was a hard worker, strong, did not grumble about the tasks; therefore, we gave him a job."

"What kind of employee is he?"

"Serious, always on time. I have never had to complain about him."

"How was he with the other ranchers? A brawler?"

"In no way, your honor; he did his work. He did not mingle with other guys a lot; but in the of-hours, it's not up to us what they do. Once they've put in a day's work, the fellows are free to do what they want."

"And therefore, if I remember what is in that file, you accompanied the defendant to the city."

"Yes, that was when I found him unconscious on our land. Then I brought him back to the ranch, and I decided to take him to the doctor. On the way, he regained consciousness, but since we were only a few miles from Virginia City, we went on to have a drink."

"So, Mr. Cartwright, do you often go to have a drink with your men?"

"Often? No, your honor, but from time to time it occurs."

"And so, let us move from there to what took place in the saloon. I made a small investigation of the sheriff, but I would like to hear the facts from your mouth. Mr. Cartwright, the Court is listening to you."

"We were eating, and drinking a beer."

"Mr. Dexter was already there?"

"Yes, yes, he was eating at the table behind us. Suddenly, he threw himself on Edmund. He'd seen something fall from Edmund's pocket. Henry got Edmund by the collar, calling him a thief. Henry had seen a bracelet which belonged to his mother. Edmund then planted his knife in the belly of Mr. Dexter."

Reproving muttering moves throughout the assembly.

That evening in Virginia City, Roy Coffee brings Marchildon back to his cell. Edmund says, "There will soon be a time when this trial ends. But sorry, Sheriff, you're still obliged to feed me and to discuss this. I had the luck to fall in a small village full of jail beds. You must collect a lot of taxes here."

"There's no more treasure there than elsewhere. Just people who work hard to earn their living."

"Oh, yeah, and you, you have some beer in the cowlick, you hayseed. Finally I want to ask, are you cut out for this work as sheriff? Is this a place of passage for bad guys?"

"No, I don't make it out to be. And your type isn't seen every month, fortunately. Our small city has nothing to do with outlaws like you. I'm here to secure the peace of honest people. Here's your meal."

"What do we have this evening?"

"Grilled bacon and local apples. And a cup of coffee."

"Mashed potatoes? That's right? Good mashed potatoes with milk and cheese?"

"Oh, I think so, but it's not me who cooks," mumbles Roy, leaving the room.

"I can't invite you, Sheriff, there aren't enough chairs. Too bad it's not possible to go downstairs."

Roy does not answer.

"You know, it's nice that you've stopped being odd. I'd say nothing under other circumstances."

"Oh, can't you quit babbling two seconds? What worse can you say to me? The man you killed, can you think of his family?" Roy turns around. Furiously he opens the cell, tears over to Marchildon, and sends him a fist in the face. "Take that! There, I've put you to bed. At least when you sleep, you'll say nothing stupid."

Roy goes out of the cell, rubbing his fist. He goes into his office and puts on his gunbelt, preparing to make his city rounds.

A little later, he meets young Amy. She has a basket in her hand and walks at a brisk pace, licking a candy stick.

"Hello, Mr. Sheriff."

"Oh, hello, Amy. Where are you going like that?"

"I'm going to see my grandmother. Mama told me to go to help her gather eggs."

"Oh, good. You're a nice girl. Don't dally; promise?"

"Yes, sir." The little girl goes on her way, and Roy continues his rounds. He walks towards the saloon to make sure that everything is calm. The trial of Marchildon attracted quite a lot of attention in the city, and many people have lined up to stay in the hotel rooms which are always full of inhabitants. September is a month which gives job, and guests are always welcome. The farmers labor under heavy crops of potatoes which must be stored in bins, to last through the winter. Roy doesn't much like it when trials take place in his jurisdiction. It isn't easy thing for him to see his city being the theatre of a hanging. It isn't good for the reputation and image of the city. But at the same time, it's necessary to reassure the population and especially the rich owners like Tan, Berts and Menilson, who tried so hard to finance the campaign of Roy Bean, a killer who pledged to be elected sheriff at all costs. Roy had his fill of men like him a long time ago. No doubt about it, this trial irritates him a lot. It's necessary for him to watch over this unfortunate Marchildon, to make him eat, even though this surveillance prevents Roy from attending to his habitual job. In the meantime documents stack up in his office. And this worries him prodigiously. Conscientious as he is, he cannot be satisfied with this situation. And then with one less deputy, it sticks in his throat even more. Larson Clark hasn't reappeared since walking out the door. But he was a good associate, and his absence weighs heavily.

"Help me, help me!" Amy, out of breath, runs to Roy Coffee. "Quickly, quickly, Grandmother doesn't answer!"

Roy takes the little girl by the hand and draws her away a little farther, to move her away from the saloon. "Don't cry, take a breath and explain to me..."

"And, well, and WELL, PHEW, PHEW, I arrived at Grandmother's house, and she wasn't even there. The door is open, but she doesn't answer. I looked everywhere for her."

"I'll come with you. We'll find her."

Roy Coffee follows the small girl. They don't need long to arrive at the farm where the old lady lives. She lives there alone with some hens, pigs, and two cows. She also keeps a beef cow and will sell the best parts of meat; that will bring her some money for the winter.

"Mrs. Cunnigham, Mrs. Cunningham. Answer me. It's Roy Coffee. Where are you?"

No answer. Roy and the small girl go around to the barn. There they discover Mrs. Cunningham, lying down, legs wedged under a fagot of wood, face bloodied and with blood-stained arms also.

"Grandmother...oh, Grandmother..." Amy throws herself against her grandmother and gives her the consolation of her small arms.

"Mrs. Cunningham, do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you..."

"What happened to you?"

"I wanted to mow a bit of grass for the cows. I must not have been looking where I was going. My head was turned; I wasn't paying attention."

"Are you terribly injured?"

"No."

Amy takes out her handkerchief and begins touching slowly the cheek of her grandmother, whose blood reddens immediately the white cloth.

Roy Coffee puts his arms around the body of the old lady and helps her to get up. "I'm going to drive you to Dr. Martin's office. It seems to me that it's better to sew up this nasty cut."

"It was a branch that scratched me. Nothing serious."

Another night in Virginia City...

Ben and Joan are sitting down in the restaurant, in a small lighted alcove away from the other guests. Joan contemplates her herbal tea while Ben sip a last glass of brandy.

"Drink, Joan, your tea is going to be cold."

"Nothing, nothing at all…I have learned nothing today. This trial, perhaps I expect too much from it."

"It's only the first day, Joan. Tomorrow we'll know more about it."

"I hope so, Ben, I hope so. Otherwise, what use is this?"

"Have hope and confidence. Have confidence in justice, Joan."

"As long as you're here, I'll trust."

"Justice won't bring back Henry or his mother. But your pain will have been acknowledged. And then you'll know, I'm absolutely persuaded..."

"Yes, Ben. Would you like take me to walk around outside? I'm a bit warm."

"But with pleasure, dear friend. Come."

Ben gets up and goes to Joan. He pulls out her chair and takes her arm. "Don't forget your shawl."

"Oh, thank you; where was my mind?"

Joan gives him his wide-brimmed hat and takes his helping hand, and he places her shawl on her shoulders. He arranges the lace on the arms of the young woman, and both head for the exit.

"Atchoo!" he sneezes. "Excuse me, Joan. Atchoo!"

"Of course, dear Benjamin. Are you catching a cold?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just a small piece of dust tickling my nose."

"Pooh pooh, you look like you're going out without a jacket. That doesn't seem to me very reasonable."

"Undoubtedly, but I am not cold."

While speaking, he lifts his hand to his throat and tries to undo the knot of the tie and undoes his shirt collar.

Shouting from the saloon draws their attention.

"A fight; that's sure."

At this moment, the window crashes in. A chair has just been thrown through the panes. The wooden slats break into pieces, the glass falls on the floor in the middle of broken chairs and some bottles which crashed through the window onto the wood and straw. Ben turns around, sticks his knot in his pocket, and starts to run towards the saloon. Joan tries to hold him.

"No, Benjamin, do not go there!"

"Joan…"

"I don't want you to go, Benjamin, you risk being hurt. I can't stand to lose you.

"Everything will be all right, hush now. I want to be certain my boys are not mixed up in this."

"Oh, let's go, but what are you thinking, Benjamin?"

"Probably it's nothing…but between Corvet, who is a bit hot under the collar, and my youngest son, who is even more likely to get into trouble, I have reason to worry. Dear Joan, go to tell the sheriff."

"But Benja..."

"No argument, Joan, do what I say. There's not one minute to lose."

Ben leaves at a quick walking pace in the direction of the hotel. He passes by the outside staircase which leads directly to rooms. He needs no more than five minutes to get his Colt and to get back down to the sidewalk. He fastens his belt and runs towards the saloon. The echo of the fight continues, and he hears voices mixed in the din.

"Barney, you're going to pay me."

A solid guy wearing a checked shirt, black jeans, and a brown scarf around his neck finds himself thrown down, having been hurled through the swinging doors, head over heels. He gets up again on all fours, shakes his head, and tries to recover his feet.

"Ow, oh my g..."

Ben goes to him and gives him a helping hand. The guy accepts his assistance.

"Oh, are you all right?" asks Ben Cartwright.

"Yeah, nothing's broken. I'm going back at it..."

"Time for that later, my friend. Can you tell me who started the fight? Not a small, wiry fellow, I hope?"

"No, if, uh no, I don't believe...in fact, don't know much about how it began. Well, if your…I mean, I don't know too much..." While the man scratches the back of his head, Ben wordlessly comments on this vague chattering with a shrug of his shoulders and turns to the saloon. He just has time to move away, when another one comes flying out to bite the dust.

"Whose turn is it?" the man says. "They'll be hearing from me!"

Ben's blood boils. "Adam, stop right now!"

"ADAM!" Ben catches his eldest son by the collar and pushes him back.

"Pa, it isn't what you think."

"Adam, it's enough. I believe what I see."

"But Pa, stop. Let me explain to you..."

"No, you hush up about it. Where are your brothers, and where is Corvet?"

"Hoss should be , look!"

"Where?"

"You see the big guy? Hoss is on him."

Hoss has just sent the guy to the ground. The fellow glides spectacularly and lands on a card table. Cards, chips, and glasses of beer fly across the big room.

"Get out of here before I squash you!" Hoss yells.

"You take me for a cockroach? We'll see who's going to squash who..."

Hoss turns around and sends his elbow into the pit of the insolent man's stomach. "Who's the cockroach now?"

"Hey, but what makes you…"

"Looks like I've missed more than one of these guys who's still standing!"

Roy Coffee has just entered the saloon. He scans the man who looks like a rug on the floor, just shaken out by the Cartwright family's Hercules. "OUT!" he bellows in a strong voice.

The fight ceases, and hats take a little of time to find the heads of their owners. Roy disperses those who live out outside of the city.

"SADDLES UP, FELLOWS. Get on your brooms, your women are waiting for you. Disappear!"

In a short instant, the saloon empties. Some people will go back to the hotel or some other digs or the barn.

"Okay, we can see in here a little more. Ben, thank you for making Joan tell me. I hate these trials that bring all the riffraff and rotten lowlifes into our city. I can't stand it, I tell you."

"And Joan, where is she?"

"She went back to the hotel."

"I hope she won't have a bad encounter with anyone."

"No, she's already in her room, don't worry."

"I'll go back. HOSS, ADAM! We're leaving, but I have a couple of words for you first…"

Hoss comes over. "Pa, you can't imagine that we did this for the fun of it. Adam told you…"

"TOLD ME WHAT?"

"Younger brother, I didn't have time to explain, see..."

"Pa, I swear to you, we weren't involved in starting the fight."

"We'll discuss it later! Where is Joe?"

"He took Corvet far from the saloon."

"Are you joking me? Joe, far from a fight? I can't believe it!"

"Pa, it is the truth. Joe took Corvet."

Finally hushing up, Ben sees clearly, everything hits him. His Joe has shown some sense in his brain; he finally understand that it's in his best interest to keep away from fights. "It's a miracle. I must admit, I didn't think I'd ever see this day."

"This day?" repeats Adam. "Well, everything's clear, well…"

"Yes, everything's clear. And what a blow it is that my two great awkward lumps of older sons are in the saloon distributing thumps like chestnuts!"

"Hey, Pa, it's logical after mushrooms..." Adam tries to joke but doesn't finish his sentence; his father throws him one of his looks, which makes him huddle a little into the corner of the wall. Ben gives him the basic pay-back glare, the half-closed eyes, black and throwing flashes of lightning. Then he blinks his eyes once and continues his little talk with Roy.

Roy says, "I'm impatient for this bedeviled trial to end. We'll have a little peace then, and I won't be the one who will be sorry."

"It's a burden, that's for sure."

"Well, yes, especially since I can't continue to do this. The town needs me, you know. That baby Amy Cunnigham came to me in tears. Her grandmother didn't answer. She'd had a fall at home, and couldn't manage to get up again."

"And how is she doing?"

"Nothing broken. Some scrapes. She saw Paul, and now she's resting at her son's and her daughter-in-law. Well, it's about time I turn around; the night is going to be long, I sense it."

"See you later, Roy."

"Good night, Ben, good night, boys

************ On the street…

"You both disappoint me, really.

"Pa, that's a bit strong," says Adam. "Hoss, do you realize he doesn't believe us?"

"No, I don't believe you."

"But Pa, do think we'd be stupid enough to go start a fight in the saloon? Hoss and I tried to intervene when we saw the situation turning sour."

"Is that true? Hoss, is this what took place?"

"Yes, Pa. All right, I admit that the facts don't favor us. After we intervened, I was mixed up pretty well with the fight when you got there. But I was cleaning up, nothing more."

"None of the four of you caused this moronic fist fight?"

"Not us, Pa," Hoss insists. "I promise you, we didn't do anything."

"And you, Adam?"

"Dadburnit, it's not true, what you think. What else do you need? Trust us."

"All right, don't be so irritated; very well, I'm sorry, boys. I was wrong. I ask you to forgive me."

Adam says sarcastically, "Once again, everything is made absolutely by our esteemed father's...OUCH!"

"That will teach you to disrespect your father. Your twenty-nine years and long legs will not keep your tail safe from an unfortunate meeting with my foot."

"I can see that, Pa. Glad to see you're still fit."

"Yes, you see your old father can still raise his foot high enough to plant it on your butt. So hold your tongue."

"If I ever forget it, the second brain I have in my tailbone will remind me. This brain will always remember your handprint and your bootprint."

"I'm delighted, son. Come on, you lot, we're off. Our beds are waiting for us."

"Hey! Hey, ho!" Joe's voice sounds over the roars of laughter of Hoss and of Adam.

"Ah," says Ben, "here is the last of my sons. Come here, I have something to say to you, you."

"But Pa, I didn't do anything. Hey, Hoss, Adam; what did you tell him?"

"What should we have told him?"

"You know very well what. That I took Corvet away as soon as things got ugly."

Ben gets closer to his son; Joe does not back off. Ben still gets closer. Joe sees the eyes of his father shining, two sharp black balls. Ben puts both hands on the shoulders of his son, with all weight of his charisma and his presence. Joe's knees buckle a bit. Ben continues to fix his son with his gaze. Joe swallows with difficulty. Ben intensifies his look, which grows. Joe gets ready mentally for the row which is going to follow. Ben shakes his son and finally deigns to open his mouth.

"Joe, I am very proud of you. For such a long time I've waited for this. You have just given me the biggest present."

"Shucks, Pa, you know I did nothing exceptional."

"'Nothing exceptional'? You stay away from a fight, and you call it nothing exceptional! Well, for me, it's downright miraculous."

"Oh, well," Joe grins, "if you say so."

The following day at the trial, at about ten o'clock…

"That's all I have to say, your honor," says Marchildon. "Must I repeat it?"

A stupor has just descended on the common room where Marchildon's trial is being held. The session was opened with Joe's evidence; he declared he saw Mrs. Dexter lying on the floor, lifeless. Joe could certify that the late Mr. Dexter had asked him to go to his ranch, and they had discovered his mother there. The presence of Mr. Dexter at the Ponderosa was confirmed by Ben, Adam and Hoss; each was heard in their turn, professing to the sequence of events.

"But the court cannot see how you came in contact with her."

Marchildon's answer is as high as the character, insolent and demonstrative "You make me sick. Mrs. Dexter's mother and I knew each other in San Fransisco. I quickly became the man she needed. She had heard about my gifts, and that I am the type of man who respects deep pockets."

"What type of gifts have you, mister, apart from an ability to despise the authority of a court of justice?"

"I am rather bold, a guy who has a large head; and I give a good account of myself when it comes to forging."

"So you wrote a false wedding certificate implicating the late Mr. Dexter?"

"Yes."

"I have here in the file this forgery-document as well as a letter which was handed to Mrs. Dexter, the wife of the victim. You also wrote this?"

"Yes."

"Was the physical elimination of Mr. Dexter also part of, humph, your little arrangement?"

"This was not. I did not envision this. Mr. Dexter threw himself on me, and I had to defend myself."

How many in the room tell themselves that undoubtedly the earth has procreated a madman? All think at this instant that this man is a monster. Surely a guilty verdict will not fail to fall. Anyway, they are at least ten desires to lynch him if he happens to come through this. A double crime, he has no chance to save his hide. He will even be able to plead drunkenness, the only extenuating circumstance upheld by some judges in previous trials. But drunkenness was not the case, because Adam and the others who were in the saloon certify that Marchildon was healthy in mind and quite sober when he stabbed the victim.

Ben twists his hat in rage, a contained rage. Then he thinks of Joan, sitting alone on her bench. He gets up quietly and sits down next to her. She is mortified. What she has just heard has ruined her. She wipes her tears courageously but with practically superhuman effort. She has just heard that a woman was capable of paying a man to destroy the happiness of her own son. There, in this moment, Joan does not think of herself but of Henry, betrayed by his own mother. It is unimaginable. Her husband brought down by a weapon more sharp than that of the blade of a knife. How can a mother be capable of doing something like that to the flesh of her flesh? Joan does not understand; she senses Ben's presence. She raises her head slowly when Ben comes up to her. He puts the arm around her shoulder, and she allows herself to lean against him for one instand. Then she stands up straight.

Behind bars, some hours later...

Outside, the men knock and knock beams and boards. They build your gallows, my boy, he tells himself. Your last hours of life, and suddenly freedom, but only in your head. He is free to think or not, and he well intends to enjoy this final freedom. In the trial, he said what he had to say, and he is not not much proud of his conduct. But he's happy not to bear alone the responsibility of these crimes. Even if he is the only prisoner convicted and hung, this heinous legacy is forever linked to her. In the end, the old middle-class person and the small calligrapher crossed paths. Never was such a maleficent association seen! And she did not even have the pleasure of seeing the knife plunged, because he cooled her down before. She tried to make light of him, she threatened him, and without any regret, he hit: once, twice…He does not know how many more. In the half-light of the room, he undoubtedly didn't see well. But he remembers noise: his shouting, their clash, their disagreement about the sum. She had promised a thousand dollars; he had demanded fifteen hundred; she had said not and threatened to reveal everything. And this was too dangerous. Who would have believed him? Against the old bat, not a chance.

Unsubdued and rebellious, his insomnia wins. Worries rise, the panic of the cornered animal. The respite of daybreak will come, yes; but the daybreak will be a curtain which will open with the play's decline. What time will they decided to lengthen his neck, these "fourmi de pisse" jurors? The hour was not set yesterday…

At the hotel, Ben is outside, smoking his pipe. Joan has gone upstairs to lie down. Adam and Hoss, understanding their father's preference to disappear in his room, have gone to play cards with Joe.

"Mr. Cartwright?"

"Oh, Corvet, it's you. Not yet in bed?"

"If I'm ever going to go there. Tomorrow I have to get up early; I have a lot work waiting for me. But that's fair."

"Come on, sonny, you can approach me, you know."

Hopping up on the rail, the young boy throws a friendly look.

"You do good job," Ben tells him. "I want to congratulate you, and double. Hoss slipped me a few some words. It seems the barn is spotless. I am very proud of you."

Silence.

Corvet is more affected than he lets himself appear. These compliments warm his heart. Undoubtedly this Mr. Cartwright really is a strict, upstanding, impressive man, but at the same time capable of such goodness. It's the first time he's met somebody who makes him face his responsibilities and shows him his good side, having checked his errors off and given him a chance to repair them.

"Mr. Cartwright, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me; all right, sonny, but for what?"

"You are nice to me."

His last words choke in his throat. He bursts into tears and tries to conceal them clumsily in its sleeve of his shirt.

"Go ahead and cry, sonny, it will be good for you." Ben once again tightens his arms around the boy, giving him a comforting shoulder, a solid and protective body, as an unsinkable shelter. Corvet throws himself against the chest of his boss and grips him with all force of his arms.

"Hey." Ben raises his head, his eyes filling with tears, there in front of this lost kid who hangs on to him. "There, sonny, you can stop. I'm here."

Corvet sniffs and dries his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It was time, that's all. You have a lot to be resentful about, the whole thing."

"I admit that I find it difficult to confide."

"I believe I understood this, sonny. Now, don't forget that I am here. If you need to speak, I will always have time as you."

Tears resume with renewed vigour.

"Ah, well," Ben says.

"You can't imagine what it means to hear somebody to say he has time for me. Life is incredible," Corvet exclaims. At the time when he felt so lost, Mr. Cartwright came to give a helping hand to him. More often, his cheeks have rubbed against a wall or a trunk of tree than the chest of a man. Long days of trouble and grief, and then this man enters his life and says to him, "I have time for you."

At 7:50 a.m. in the courtyard, about forty people gather, including the notables of the city, the town councilors, and the curious coming to attend the execution. And behind the windows which overlook the site of the punishment, how many wait, scanning the crowds, alleys, visitors, and others?

Well, Adam, Joe, and Hoss are there; and Joan is also there.

Dave, the deputy of Roy Coffee, goes up on the scaffold, adjusts the rope at the top of the gallows, and goes back to the prison to find the convicted prisoner there. He comes out again with the sheriff, both with revolvers in their belts and stars glittering on their vests. The Reverend Browne is in attendance, standing beside the person sentenced to death. The procession walks up sixteen steps to the platform slowly and solemnly. The Reverend prays with Marchildon, who is situated on the hatch of the gallows. Dave ties his arms and legs with straps, covers his head with a black hat, and adjusts the noose of the rope which fits tightly around his neck.

"God, you who see everything, take pity on this man who is going to pay for his errors... make Good triumph over Trouble..."

At two past eight o'clock, Edmund Marchildon dies. At the moment when the body plunges heavily into the yawning hole built into the floor of the platform, a shouting blares while everybody is silent.

"No!"

The author of the shouting launches himself like a strong current towards the gallows, but somebody has already passed through the distance which separates them...somebody who has already understood...

"Calm down!"

The one who shouted is Corvet, and the one who ran is Hoss. He encircles with his powerful arms the body of the kid, who gesticulates in pain and rage. Hoss lets him fall apart. He knows this kid is in distress and trouble, and seeks consolation. And Hoss Cartwright, just as his father, can take someone by the arm, lend a hand, give a shoulder. The only answers to be given are those that allow someone to abate their grief. It's a fact: acknowledging someone's grief by touching and giving attention creates a climate of confidence. This tactile communication, although silent, is a precious help for the young boy who is disrupted and shaken. It allows him to feel supported in his suffering. He's in a state of shock, an incommensurable stupor.

"Give him back to me!"

A shiver goes through the assistants, and from the street, where the crowd has fastened their eyes on the beams of the gallows, a murmur of sympathy rises. Paul Martin rushes then to determine death and to support the body. Dave cuts the rope, and the doctor and Roy, helped by Ben and by Adam, put the body of Marchildon in its bier. The crowd scatters quietly.

Ben, followed by Paul Martin, passes through the crowd, moving people aside with his elbows to join Hoss. It is a long, a very long look that they exchange.

In the hotel room, Corvet is sitting down on the bed.

Many feelings live in him, at this moment isolation, guilt, concern, discomfort. Died, he died, this time in fact. No invented death, no scenario planted in the imagination. No, died in the most dreadful way that exists. The terrible picture will never leave his mind. Died in shame and popular condemnation; death to the one who killed twice. This man who cheated, this man who lied, this man who stunned, this man who stabbed, it is his father. His father.

In the corridor…

"When did you know, Hoss?"

"In the court, when Marchildon said that he had a gift of forgery. You know, Pa, when I went back to the Ponderosa, I had to go in search of the kid. Actually, he was in the house. He admitted having entered it without permission, searching for a pencil. He wanted to draw, and his pencil didn't have lead anymore."

"Oh, Hoss, I feel so terrible; badly for this kid, because of what he saw. My God, but what did we do?"

"Pa, how could we suspect? Didn't you hear him talk about the death of his father?"

"Yes, I believe so. Still, I confess that I don't know exactly."

"I remember he said to me that his father had died in a gallery."

"May God help him now. Poor boy."

One week later…

"Then Joan, you have decided to go?"

"Yes, Benjamin."

Her suitcase is closed, a padlock closed on a past, on a life. She takes only few things and her dreams, those flown off, those she still keeps in her heart. She lost a lot; not everything, but a lot. She is not more than a hurt woman. But she is not alone; she carries a life in her: the life of his child, the fruit of her love for Henry. And she had heard the women of the tribe repeat so often that women who are pregnant should avoid what could unsettle them. Joan avoided nothing, she confronted everything, she suffered everything.

"Miss, someone has come here, ready to take you back home," says Hop Sing.

"Allow me to accompany you," says Ben, "to assure myself that you will be welcomed kindly."

"Things are different," she tells him. "The leader joined the country of the brave men. His son took back the stick of words and all the finery of his father. He runs the tribe with wisdom."

"I didn't know that the leader Numaga was not any more."

"I knew it when I went back to the tribe, when you were so sick."

"Oh, Joan."

"Shh, Benjamin, please. Say nothing, it will be too difficult."

"But Joan."

"I know what you're going to say to me. You must know that I'd like to say to you the same words."

"Then if we must part, it is one goodbye, and not the goodbye. And allow this..."

And taking the face of the young woman in his hands, he places a kiss there. At the instant when his lips touch Joan's, the bitter and salt taste of a tear makes him hesitate. "Joan, why?"

"I love you, Benjamin. From the first day when you set your eyes on me, I knew that my heart was going to belong to you. I tried to forget, I tried, Benjamin, but how to control a feeling, how to hush up the voice of the heart? This voice, I succeeded in putting it to sleep when I met Henry, but it has never ceased protesting in a corner of my heart..."

"Oh, Joan, my sweetheart."

At this moment, Ben can't help thinking of what Adam said to him on the evening they took Dexter to the party. So Adam had seen, just as Ben has now seen for the first time, that yes, Joan, wants to do more than fit with Henry. From the beginning, Adam had understood that the young white woman exiled from the tribe had become attached to Ben Cartwright.

Ben holds the young woman against him, and she moves away a bit, although she does not want to drop his hand. He holds her yet a bit longer, bringing her back near him, holding her tightly around in his arms.

"It's better than I leave. I want to maintain my position with character. I want to be sheltered. I've felt too much pain, Benjamin. I thought that I was going to be happy in this new world, the world which you opened, this world which you gave me."

"Forgivene me, Joan, this is not the life I wished for you."

"You've done nothing wrong, Benjamin. And know that in every rising of the moon, every season, I will have a thought for you, Benjamin. And one last thing, Benjamin; take care of this young boy. Be a second father for him. Achieve for him what you did for me and for so many others; be a guide."

"Whatever you would like, dear Joanie."

With a heavy heart, Ben moves away. Keep moving away still; do not turn around. Especially do not turn around; to turn around would make it too easy to go back. Even if he is enormously troubled, he must leave her, he must respect her decision. It is an unhappy thing to leave the woman he loves. On his face tanned by the sun, marked by years, a tear runs. He sees Joan disappearing in the teepee of Moons, reserved for the women. Finally he realizes that to build houses that are as solid as rocks does not keep a man sheltered from misfortune. The teepee appears to him to be a haven of peace: animal skins stretched over twenty-eight sticks…twenty-eight as the cycle of the moon. And nine rooms of skins sewn together, as nine months when the pregnancy lasts. Joan described to him this tent of waiting; the women of the tribe will watch over her and help her at the dawn of the first pain, when the baby will come.

Afterword

The plain is dismal at the time of goodbye. The wood colour of her eyes, the disobedient and smooth forehead, he's missing it already, will miss it still, tomorrow and other mornings. Oh, Joan, I did not want to see you leave. Right away, I liked your child's heart, your face of a determined woman, your charm of an audacious woman. Your anger, your insults, your insubordination. I will not forget you, Joan


End file.
